Forty Days
by write2like
Summary: The action in this story follows ep 22 of S10 (contains spoilers). It does include Anna, but it's not simply a "romance." As always, thanks to Shane and CBS for allowing fans to use their creations to create new stories-or continue old one. The NCISLA characters aren't mine, but the new characters and story line are.
1. Chapter 1

**Forty Days**

**Chapter 1**

_As always, reviews/comments are welcome. I always enjoy reading what people think. :-)_

Anna was dying. Callen tore loose from the soldiers holding him and rushed to her side. He knelt down beside her, tore off his shirt and held it against the red blood that flowed from the bullet hole in her chest, a small red blossom blooming on her shirt. Volkoff's laughter echoed in the chamber, but Callen ignored it. He cradled Anna's head in one hand as he held his shirt against her chest with his other. She was slipping away and he was helpless. She looked up at him, raised her hand, and gently caressing his face, smiled.

"I knew the risks, Callen."

"You shouldn't have taken them."

"That's what you do when you love someone."

She said it. He saw her holding back the tears in her eyes and felt his own as he closed his eyes tightly to try and stop them. He couldn't. He lifted her up to him. Her fingers gently threaded through his hair, and he whispered, "Anna, Anna, stay with me. Don't leave me." She sighed and her fingers tightened, and she didn't hold back her tears anymore. He kissed them away and then he kissed her the way he had kissed her so many times before. He felt her breath leaving her as he kissed her, but that only made his kisses stronger and longer as though by kissing her he could share his breath with her and bring her back. But he couldn't, and in a moment her breathing stopped. Her fingers let loose of his hair and her hands fell to her side. Anna was gone. When he finally pulled his lips from hers, he caressed her face for a moment and then held her body against his so tightly that he almost couldn't breathe. He would never again hear her voice, see her smile, taste her lips, smell her hair, or feel her skin pressed against his, and he uttered a cry of unimaginable anguish.

And then Callen woke.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Callen's t-shirt was drenched in sweat, his fists clenched, and his breathing ragged. His room was pitch black as he wiped the sweat off his face, threw off the top sheet, and sat up. He sat staring into the darkness until his breathing slowed and became more regular. He had left Cuba more than three weeks ago, and since then Nikita had died, Alex still wouldn't speak to him, he hadn't heard from Anna, and he hadn't slept more than 3-4 hours a night. And then almost a week ago the nightmares began, and in them, Anna always died.

He looked at his watch. 2:30. He got out of bed and went to the bathroom, stripped off his t-shirt and boxers, turned on the shower, and stepped in. In a few minutes steam filled the small room. Callen placed his palms against the tile on either side of the shower and bowed his head. When he was thoroughly soaked, he turned off the water and stood for a few minutes, water dripping off his body that ached from weariness but could find no rest. After a moment he stepped out. He dried himself off, but knew he couldn't go back to sleep, so he got dressed in shorts and a fresh t-shirt and poured himself a glass of water. He walked over to the chess board, studied it a moment, and then absently moved white's bishop into position to challenge black's remaining rook. He sat down on the floor and picked up Resistance, Rebellion, and Death: Essays by Camus, opened to his bookmark, and read a page or two before closing it. He couldn't concentrate. He stretched out on the floor and stared at the ceiling. He wasn't tired; he was exhausted, and it was both a mental and a physical exhaustion, and peace eluded him. He stood up. If he couldn't find peace sleeping in his apartment, maybe he'd find it somewhere else, doing something else. Callen put on his running shoes and in less than a minute he was on the streets of L.A. hoping to find a little peace while most of the city slept.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Sam arrived at work, he was met by Kensi and Deeks deep in a discussion about the value of adding a jukebox to their bar. Deeks was using all his charm to argue his position.

"There's nothing more relaxing than listening to music after a long, hard day at work, is there Kenz?"

"Like Black Sabbath?"

He paused. "Maybe. I guess it depends on the kind of day you've had."

Kensi rolled her eyes, "Really, Deeks?"

"Look," he began and then spotted Sam. "Sam dog, help me out. Do you find music relaxing after a hard day's work?"

"You mean a hard day's night?" Sam replied with a sly wink.

"Touché," Deeks grinned. "But seriously, Sam dog, don't you listen to music to relax?"

"Sure. I'll listen to a little Miles Davis or Sade if it's been a rough day. If I really need to relax, I might put on the Beastie Boys or Wu-Tang Clan."

Kensi gave Sam a look that told him he wasn't helping. Sam smiled and shrugged his shoulders as he took his seat at his desk and pulled out his laptop. He glanced up after logging in. "Where's G?"

"I guess he hasn't come in yet," Kensi said as she refilled her coffee cup.

"Maybe he's in Ops?" Deeks offered. "We haven't seen him, but we haven't been upstairs yet."

"He could be in the gym," Kensi continued as she made her way back to her desk and sat down.

The simple fact that Callen wasn't at his desk and that Sam hadn't heard from him, worried Sam. He'd been worried more than usual about Callen ever since Nikita had been returned to Russia. He'd seen the stress the recent events had put on his partner, the little things he probably thought Sam hadn't noticed but had become even more noticeable after their return from Cuba: his lack of appetite, his increased fidgeting, his momentary lack of focus at work, his feigned disinterest in any information about Anna, his obvious lack of sleep. And with Nikita's death, things had only gotten worse. "It's not like G to be late without letting me know," Sam said as he pulled out his phone. In a moment, they all heard Sam's call go straight to voicemail. Sam hung up, pushed back his chair and headed up to Ops. Kensi and Deeks followed.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dimitri Kuznetsov walked out of the airport and into the bright Cuban sun. He had decided to take his short holiday abroad and chose the Caribbean island after learning of Pavel Volkoff's death. Pavel had been Dimitri's superior, almost his mentor, for many years, and now, after all that Pavel had done for the FSB—and the KGB before that—no one in Moscow seemed to care that his life had been brought to a brutal end at the hands of the CIA. Instead, they were doing everything possible to distance themselves from him and bury his memory deep in the vaults of the FSB because of the disastrous events he had set in motion. Dimitri knew that Pavel's last plan had been a terrible mistake and gone horribly wrong, but Russia had recovered and no significant damage had been done to its intelligence services or international standing. If anything, Pavel's mistake had made the West more conscious of Russia's ability to wreck international havoc—a healthy weapon in and of itself. And whatever mistake Pavel might have made did not justify the agency's current dismissive attitude by those who now held power. No one had been willing to give Dimitri anything more than the most basic information about Pavel's contacts and the events surrounding his death, and he had been instructed to not act without agency sanction, but Dimitri was an intelligence officer and knew how to do gather intelligence and conduct a mission. Even if they weren't willing to avenge Pavel's death, Dimitri was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Thanks to everyone for the reviews/comments. They're very much appreciated! This story has taken on a life of its own (lol) and seems to be taking me with it instead of the other way around. As always, please feel free to share your thoughts._

Up in Ops, Eric and Nell were busy with tagging and organizing surveillance videos and digital material recovered from a recent operation when Sam entered, followed closely by Kensi and Deeks. Both were surprised by the arrival of the agents since there was no current case and, as far as they knew, no one had summoned them to Ops.

"What can I do you for, Sam?" Eric asked as he stopped working on his tablet and faced the agents.

"Have you heard from Callen?"

Eric and Nell looked at one another before Eric answered, "Not this morning, no."

"He didn't send you a text or an email?"

Eric quickly checked the accounts Callen would have contacted and shook his head. "The only emails and texts I've received are related to cases, mainly the one involving the Intrepid. I'm thinking those aren't the kinds of messages you're looking for."

These were definitely not the kinds of messages Sam was looking for. "Where's his phone?"

Eric focused on his tablet again and in a moment had the answer. "It's at his apartment."

"Call him. Put it on speaker."

Eric and Nell both raised their eyebrows. They were seldom ordered to call any agent by anyone other than Hetty, especially when there was no case and especially not asked to put the call on speaker, but something was clearly bothering Sam and Callen was his partner, so Eric obliged. His call, like Sam's, immediately went to voicemail. Eric cast a sidelong glance at Nell whose own expression was beginning to show concern.

"Maybe he doesn't want to be disturbed," Eric suggested.

"Or maybe he can't be disturbed," Sam replied, deadly serious. "Turn on the phone's camera." In Sam's mind, the inability to contact his partner set off the same alarms he'd felt when Callen had been abducted to Belarus, but since Nikita was now dead, if something had happened to Callen, could it still be connected to Nikita, to someone else in his personal life, to a previous case, or could it be related to something or someone completely unknown? Anyone in this business made a lot of enemies when they'd been in it as long as Callen had been.

Suddenly the big screen was filled with the image of Callen's apartment. He had purchased a cheap dollar stand for his phone, and judging from the angle of the camera, that's where it was—on the crate next to his bed. There seemed to be no visible sign of a struggle—nothing looked broken—not that there was much that would be broken if anything had been one. Still, the apartment looked undisturbed. That was a good sign. The corner of Callen's bed was just visible, and from this view there was no sign of anyone in it.

"Where's his car?"

Eric checked his tablet again. "It's parked on the street across from his apartment."

"Check his phone for any incoming or outgoing calls or texts within the past 48 hours."

Eric's lips drew into a straight, tight line, and Sam could see that this order made both Eric and Nell uncomfortable.

"Eric, you probably won't find anything that isn't work related. After all, it's Callen. But if you do find something out of the ordinary—a call or a text from an unknown person or number, it might help explain why he isn't at work and if he's in some kind of trouble."

"Right," Eric nodded and began accessing Callen's phone logs. Sam turned to Nell.

"Nell, check the traffic cams in the area of Callen's apartment over the past 24 hours and see if you see him or anything or anyone who might be suspicious, out of the ordinary."

"Absolutely," Nell said and took her seat next to Eric.

As the three agents headed back to the bullpen, Sam knew that Eric and Nell would find anyone who had come near Callen's apartment or contacted him. He would go over now and check things out in person.

He turned to Kensi and Deeks, "Tell Hetty I've gone to check on Callen when she comes in."

"Of course," Kensi replied. "I'm sure he's fine, Sam."

Sam was in the tunnel and almost out the door when Eric and Nell came down with their results, so he came back to the bullpen to hear what they had to say.

"There has been no activity—calls or texts—on Callen's phone for the past 48 hours other than normal work-related calls."

Sam nodded, "Okay." He turned to Nell, "And did you find anything, Nell?"

"I did," Nell said. She put the video from a neighborhood camera up on the screen in the bullpen. The time stamp showed 2:41 am that morning as Callen exited his apartment building and jogged out of view.

"Who goes jogging at 2:41 in the morning?" Deeks asked to know one in particular.

Nell turned to Sam and continued, "I don't have video of him returning."

"Why not?" Sam asked as he turned to her.

"It appears," she said with notable concern, "that the camera is no longer operational."

There was silence in the bullpen for several seconds. "Thanks, you two," Sam said as Eric and Nell headed back up to Ops certain that there would be more tasks heading their way.

"Why," Deeks turned to Sam, "would Callen be out jogging at 2:41 in the morning?"

"He probably couldn't sleep. But," he continued, "the real question is, why was the camera not operational when—if—he returned?" He made a decision in a heartbeat. "Kensi, Deeks, I want you to check local hospitals to see if anyone matching Callen's description has been admitted in the last eight hours. If he was injured or in an accident, he may not have had ID on him, and his fingerprints wouldn't get a hit. Also, check with the police, especially the precincts near his apartment. Maybe there's a report. And find out what when that camera stopped functioning."

"On it," Deeks said as he and Kensi went to their desks and started calling, Kensi the hospitals and Deeks the LAPD.

Sam looked over at Hetty's desk. She hadn't come in yet this morning, either, and he couldn't help but wonder if she and Callen were working together "off the books." It wouldn't be the first time both of them had kept the rest of the team in the dark, and while Callen had become less of a "lone wolf" during the past few years, Sam knew that Callen would never shake that habit completely, and the past months might have resurrected his tendency to do things on his own. He hoped that wasn't true, but even if it was, Sam knew that the team would be ready to help him when he needed them.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was almost midnight when Eugene Weston walked through the deplaning tunnel and entered Terminal 2 of the Jose Marti International Airport. If his connecting flight hadn't been delayed in Miami, he would have arrived before 9:00 pm, but the delay was a minor inconvenience. It didn't affect his plans; it just made him tired. He waited in the customs line with his small carry-on and watched the activity around him. It was a busy airport even at this hour. When he reached the customs official, he handed her his passport.

"What brings you to Cuba, Senor Weston?" she asked with a practiced smile.

"Continuing research on the levels of pollution in the Caribbean, unfortunately."

"Why unfortunately?"

"I'd prefer it," he said as she handed him back his passport, "if there was no need for a study of pollution in the beautiful Caribbean –or any of our waters."

"Si," she said as she nodded in agreement. "We should treat our oceans with greater respect. Have a pleasant stay, and I hope your study finds that we are taking care of our island waters."

"Thank you. I hope I find that to be true," he said with a weary smile and then walked toward the exit to find a taxi to take him into the heart of Havana. But, as he passed the various food counters, he realized how hungry he was and after two flights that combined were more than 12 hours, it was time to eat. He walked up to a counter a little further down the concourse. A few minutes later, he got into a taxi with a medianoche and a paper bag of fried plantain chips. When he reached his hotel room a little before 1:00 am, Callen was ready to finally sleep and start his search for Anna later that day.

XXXXXXXXXX

In Callen's apartment, Sam hadn't found much, but he had found his overnight bag missing. Once he saw that, he went to the wall safe Callen had installed and opened it, glad that as partners they shared vital information that might be needed should either of them get compromised or in serious trouble. The first thing Sam saw in the safe was Callen's NCIS badge. He immediately thought back to the only other time Callen had left his badge behind, and it didn't ease his mind. Next, Sam saw that Callen's firearm was still in the safe, so wherever Callen had gone, he wasn't armed. That could be a bigger problem. As he looked further through the safe's contents, he noticed that there was an empty space in the organizer that held his alias passports. He knew that Callen kept a few that were not "on record" with NCIS, but he hoped that the one that appeared to be missing wasn't one of those. Sam pulled all the passports out and spread them out on the bed.

"Nell, can you read off the list of alias passports Callen's been assigned? Just the countries will do right now."

In Ops, Nell shot Eric a quizzical look as she spoke into her com, "Sure, Sam." Her fingers flew over her keyboard and a list appeared. She began reading, "Iran, United Kingdom, Libya, Russia, …."

Sam pulled the passports to one side as she read through the list. When she finished, all the passports on the list were accounted for. "Damn," was all he said. Neither Nell nor Eric wanted to interject a question, so they waited for Sam to continue. "Nell, Callen might have left the country using one of his non-NCIS aliases."

Eric was the first to speak, "That's not good."

"No," Sam agreed, "it's not. And wherever he went, he didn't take his firearm or his badge."

"That's definitely not good," Nell said as her expression mirrored her words.

"Nell, have Kensi or Deeks found anything?

"Not yet."

"Pass this information on to them and tell them they can stop. It looks like Callen's left L.A., willingly or unwillingly."

"Will do, Sam."

Sam then gathered up the passports, put them back in the organizer, closed the safe, and locked his partner's apartment. Out on the street, he checked the camera that was no longer operational; the lens had been shot out. Now very concerned, he headed back to OSP.

XXXXXXXXXX

About thirty minutes later, Sam entered OSP and saw Hetty standing at one corner of the raised platform that designated her "office" space. She motioned for him to come join her. He walked over to their diminutive operations manager and glanced back at the bullpen as he did. Kensi and Deeks sat at their desk in silence and watched him while they pretended to be busy with paperwork. Sam towered over Hetty as he stepped into her office and stopped in front of her.

"Mr. Hanna, I understand the team's been looking for Mr. Callen."

" Yes, Hetty, we have been."

"There's no need. I informed Ms. Jones and Mr. Beale and Ms. Blye and Mr. Deeks to stop looking, and I'm telling you to do the same."

"And why's that?"

"It's because I received an encrypted message from Mr. Callen early this morning informing me that he has resigned from NCIS effective immediately."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Thanks so much for the comments/reviews! I really enjoy reading them. This chapter was difficult-and long-but after multiple revisions, I decided that I just had to put it out there. As always, comments/reviews are appreciated.  
_

"What do you mean 'resigned?"

Hetty walked back behind her desk and motioned Sam to take one of the seats in front of it. Still stunned at what he had just heard, Sam remained standing, but Hetty made it plain that she wouldn't continue this conversation until he took a seat opposite her. He sat. Hetty studied her hands before she slowly raised her eyes to meet those of the former SEAL sitting before her waiting for answers.

"I believe, Mr. Hanna," she said and her voice betrayed a hint of remorse, "that Mr. Callen has moved on."

"What do you mean, 'moved on'? Moved on where? To what?"

"I'm not sure, Mr. Hanna."

"I don't believe it. NCIS is his life, his family. What else does he have?"

She sighed, leaned back in her chair, and interlaced her fingers then slowly leaned forward and looked at Sam without accusation, "You may have answered your own question, Mr. Hanna."

Sam fell silent. His face revealed his anger and confusion. "I didn't mean that, Hetty."

"I know, Mr. Hanna." She smiled and Sam noticed how tired she looked. If it hadn't been Hetty, he would have almost described her as frail. "I'm afraid I've failed Mr. Callen more often than anyone, and my failures are a primary cause behind his resignation."

"Failed him? Hetty, you've never failed Callen."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Hanna, I have," and she gazed behind him into the past. She saw Clara on the beach, Amy drowned, Callen taken from another foster home, and she said matter-of-factly, "I sent Ms. Blye to Afghanistan to prevent Jack from being killed, but I couldn't prevent Callen's father from being sent back to Russia."

"None of us could Hetty, but we tried."

She continued, "And then, of course, there was Anna."

"Anna? What could you have done for Anna?"

"Oh, Mr. Hanna," she said as she carefully moved her tea cup aside and collected her thoughts. "I have done many things in my career more difficult than derailing a prosecution." She took a deep breath, "I have been thinking about Mr. Callen since he returned from Cuba." She studied Sam. "You didn't notice a change in him?"

Sam was silent for a moment. "I noticed some little things."

"But with Mr. Callen, the 'little things' are indications of much bigger things, aren't they?"

Sam shook his head, "It's Callen, Hetty. He barely talks about anything, and less than never about personal things."

"True, Sam, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't need to. And it doesn't mean that we shouldn't listen." She paused and considered her tea cup. "Did Mr. Callen tell you that his father had another son?" She looked at Sam. His expression told her that Callen hadn't. She continued, "Well, he did. When Mr. Callen was in Cuba, he found out that his father had raised an orphaned boy as his own son." She paused again, "The boy was a Comescu."

Sam couldn't believe it. Why would any father send his own son into exile and then give a home to a boy whose family had murdered his son's mother? Sam thought back to a conversation he'd had with Callen years ago. Sam had complained about his father, about how he was so strict he had made Sam run in the snow. Callen's response wasn't what he'd expected; he seemed to admire Sam's father, "He was there. … No one ever pushed me. People push you when they care." It made Sam's complaint seem trivial. Sam's father and mother had always been there for him, but Callen's had never been. Nikita had given his life to his work, and it had destroyed his happiness and his family, and his children had suffered the most. Sam's heart broke for his partner.

"I should have made him meet with Nate the day he returned from Cuba," Hetty said, "but he always had a good reason not to, so I let it go." She sat back in her chair, and Sam shifted in his. Hetty stared into space and then back at Sam. "Mr. Callen lost his father and Anna twice. The first time, when his father was sent back to Russia and when Anna was sentenced. And the second time, he lost his father forever and perhaps Anna, as well." She collected herself and held her emotions in check. "I think, Mr. Hanna, that Mr. Callen must have felt very much alone for many years, even when he was working here among us." When she finished, she stood up and took her tea cup with her.

Sam stayed in his seat a moment and then abruptly stood up and walked out without a glance at or a word to Kensi and Deeks. He sat in the Challenger. When Michelle died, Callen made it a point to stop by often to see Sam: to know if needed anything, wanted to talk about anything, or just felt like getting a beer. Sam had often turned him away because he needed space and time to grieve, but he appreciated Callen coming around. And Callen always came back. And yet, with all that had happened in his partner's life in recent years, Sam and the team had gone on as though Callen's life was, for him, still somehow "normal." But it hadn't been for a long time.

Sam walked back into OSP and straight to Hetty. "I need to find him, Hetty."

She hung up the phone and said quietly, "I'm afraid we have a case, Mr. Hanna, and you're the senior agent now."

XXXXXXXXXX

Callen reached the Iberostar Parque Central Hotel in Old Havana around 1:00 am. After dropping his overnight bag on the bed, he stepped to the window and looked out over the city. The Capitolio and Gran Teatro nearby were illuminated and on the streets beyond, the lights of the restaurants and cafes indicated that many of Havana's residents were still out enjoying their city in the early morning hour. He had a lot to do tomorrow, so he needed to get some sleep. He stepped back from the window—leaving it and the drapes open—and removed his clothes, throwing them on the chair. Wearing only his boxers, Callen put his overnight bag on the floor and crawled into bed. In a few moments, he was asleep, and for the first time in weeks, Callen slept peacefully.

The next morning, Callen woke before 7:00 am and went downstairs for a quick breakfast of café con leche, Cuban toast, and fruit. He carried his passport, wallet, and the smartphone he'd purchased before leaving Miami. Once he'd eaten breakfast, he stepped out into Old Havana and placed a call to a person he hadn't ever expected to see or talk to again.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end sounded annoyed at being disturbed so early.

"Hello, Lionel. Remember me?"

The voice became friendly. "Agent Callen, good morning," Lionel said now wide awake.

"It's just Callen now."

"You've left the agency? Jojo didn't mention that the last time I talked to her."

"Jo doesn't know. It's a recent decision on my part." (Callen couldn't bring himself to call Joelle "Jojo.")

"I see," Lionel said even though he really didn't. "Are you in Cuba, Mr. Callen?"

"I am," Callen admitted, "and I'd like your help in finding someone."

"Ah," Lionel said and Callen knew that he was creating a cheap romance in his mind by the way he spoke that single syllable. "You are here to find la verdadera belleza you left behind." Lionel's interest was piqued and his imagination at work.

Callen ignored the urge to hang up. If Lionel could help him find Anna, that was all that mattered. "Can you help me?"

"I am a romantic at heart, Mr. Callen, so of course I can—and will—help you."

"I appreciate it."

"Mr. Callen, we men will do anything for el amor de una mujer , won't we?" Callen said nothing and Lionel continued, "Let me make a few inquiries and get back to you, say, in a few hours?"

"That'll be fine," Callen said as he crossed Calle Compostela and headed for the waterfront grateful that the conversation had finally come to an end.

XXXXXXXXXX

As Anna approached the door with her massage table and satchel of oils and lotions, the hotel's night porter opened it for her. "Buenas noches, belleza tranquila," he said as Anna entered. She smiled at him. "Buenas noches," she replied and then continued on to her final appointments that evening. Her first client was a large, rotund, flirtatious man who reminded her very much of Arkady. She had spoken to Arkady only twice since . . . the others had left. He had not mentioned Callen, and she had not asked. If only she could forget, but some things, some people, were not so easily forgotten.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was almost ten o'clock that evening when Lionel called, and Callen had gone back to his room.

"A few hours?" Callen asked, the sarcasm easily recognized even by someone whose first language wasn't English.

"I am a busy man, Mr. Callen, and in Cuba, a few hours has a very different meaning than it has in the United States." Lionel stated simply. He was enjoying the evening on the patio of a small café in Old Havana.

"So it seems."

As Lionel continued, he noticed a man walk past and take a seat at the table next to him. The man was slim, of average height, casually dressed, in his 40s, with dark hair and piercing, lifeless eyes. When he spoke to the waitress, Lionel recognized his unmistakable Russian accent, and Lionel's manner instantly became more guarded.

"But it was worth the wait. She is on the island, but she is not in Havana."

"She isn't?"

Lionel stood up and carrying his glass, nodded at his newest neighbor as he made his way between the tables to the counter and continued his conversation. "No. According to one of my contacts, she is in Playa Santa Lucia working as a masseuse. She provides massages to clients at some of the higher end hotels in tourist locations throughout the island on occasion." Lionel continued, "There are several hotels in Playa Santa Lucia, but I suggest you start with the expensive ones. The average tourist can't afford a private masseuse. That's why we have una amante femenina." Lionel gave a quick wink to the bartender standing nearby and indicated that he wanted his glass refilled. "But you should hurry, Mr. Callen, because I'm told she doesn't stay very long in one place."

"Thanks, Lionel."

"Like I said, Mr. Callen, I'm a romantic at heart. If I can help you with anything else while you're visiting our beautiful island, I am at your service."

"You've been more than helpful," Callen said as he stood by the open window and gazed out at the stars far above the city lights. "By the way, how's your family?"

The question surprised Lionel because Callen didn't seem the type to engage in small talk. "They're visiting Florida. Jojo thought it best that they leave Cuba for awhile after what happened death and I agreed. I'm not worried about myself. I can take care of myself, but I wouldn't want anything to happen to my family."

"I'm glad they're safe, but you need to be careful, Lionel. Volkoff was a very powerful man with loyal friends. Even though the FSB has disowned him, some of his friends may be very angry about his death."

Lionel glanced back at the patio and saw that the table where the Russian had been sitting was now occupied by a young couple. His eyes casually scanned the café as he spoke, "Oh, I am always careful, Mr. Callen." He took another sip of his drink. "How is your father?"

Callen stepped away from the window and sat on the edge of the bed. "He died shortly after he got home."

"I am sorry."

"Thank you."

"Was he able to say goodbye to his family before he died?"

"Yes, he was. That meant something to him, I think."

"Of course. Being able to say goodbye to family means everything." There was an awkward silence, and Callen wondered how long it would be before he was replaced and his team forgot him. They would, not right away, of course, but eventually life would overwhelm their old memories with new ones. Hetty and Sam wouldn't forget, but even they had lives outside NCIS. Callen wanted, needed, a life built around more than his work, and he hoped, he prayed that Anna would help build that life with him. If she wouldn't, Callen wasn't sure what he would do. He only knew that he needed something more than another case. He realized he wasn't Joelle or his father, but he wondered if it might be too late . . . . Lionel's voice cut through his thoughts, "Good luck, Mr. Callen. I am sure you will find her."

"Thanks for your help," Callen said and then he undressed and crawled into bed. He had a long day ahead.

XXXXXXXXXX

Lionel lingered in the café for almost an hour, nursing his drink, and then took a final sip. He gave the bartender a generous tip and explained it should be shared with the waitress who had served him at his table. The bartender agreed and Lionel gave him a pat on the shoulder as he left.

On his walk home, Lionel received a phone call. He listened, thanked the caller, and then Lionel made a call.

"Hello?"

"Yes, it's me, Mr. Callen. I needed to correct something I told you earlier." Callen waited and Lionel continued, "I told you she was in Playa Santa Lucia, but she is not. She is in the small town of Santa Lucia near Cayo Jutias."

"And these are some distance apart?"

"Oh, yes. Playa Santa Lucia is almost an 8-hour drive east of Havana. The town of Santa Lucia where she is now is a 3-hour drive west of Havana."

"Thank you, Lionel," Callen said and then Lionel continued.

"You may want to hurry. I could be wrong, but I think someone else may be looking for her."

"Why do you say that?"

"Tonight in the café a Russian man came in and sat near me. I put some distance between us during our conversation because he made me uneasy. There was something about him … I can't say exactly, but I would bet a lot of money that he is not a tourist. I make it my business to know all the Russians who have business in Havana, and I have never seen him before."

Callen thanked him and told him again to be careful, and then put the phone down and got out of bed. He didn't have any reason to wait.

As he continued home through the streets of Old Havana, Lionel realized that the stories about Volkoff not being much of a spy must have been true because the man now following him was anything but stealthy. It was the Russian man from the café. Lionel sighed. Good spycraft was becoming rarer and rarer these days. Maybe, Lionel thought, it was because there was too much reliance on technology. He was glad he didn't rely too much on technology. When he reached his small apartment, he walked upstairs, but the Russian passed by without a glance in his direction. Still, Lionel was sure it was only a matter of time before he would see him again, but he would be ready. Lionel entered his bedroom and took off his jacket, but he felt slightly unsteady—a sensation he'd never experienced after only two drinks. The unsteadiness increased and he felt a slight cramping in his stomach. He sat down on his bed and suddenly realized that perhaps the Russian's spycraft wasn't as bad as he had thought. He struggled to get his phone out of his jacket pocket. As the pain increased, he reached out and toppled the large ornate lamp on the nightstand before he collapsed on his bed. Lionel's last thought as he stared at the ceiling and hoped that help would arrive in time was that if he survived, he would make sure that that bartender was fired.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Many thanks for the comments/reviews. I appreciate them enormously!_

Callen dressed and went down to the concierge as soon as he hung up with Lionel. He was glad that he'd thought to reserve a car before leaving the U.S. Not knowing where in Cuba Anna might be, Callen knew enough about Cuban public transportation to know that his search would be easier if he had his own. Lucky for him Eugene Weston had an impeccable driving record. Callen entered the lobby and discovered that even at this hour, several other guests had not yet retired for the night. Since the concierge was assisting someone else, Callen waited. When the guest was satisfied that the concierge would, in fact, be able to acquire eight tickets for the theater performance tomorrow night, he left. Callen stepped forward.

"Mr. Weston, good evening. What can I help you with?" the concierge asked with a weary, but genuine smile as he straightened out some loose papers.

"I reserved a car before arriving, and it should have been delivered to the hotel this afternoon."

The concierge nodded and turned around in the narrow space behind the counter and checked the various pigeon holes in the organizer on the wall. Eventually, he pulled out a few sheets of paper and a key fob. He placed them on the counter in front of Callen and then set a pen down on the papers.

"If you will sign these papers, Mr. Weston, I will give you the key to your car which is parked in one of the spaces behind the hotel."

Callen had already provided his license, insurance, and credit card information—or rather, Eugene Weston had—so he signed the papers quickly, took the key the concierge handed him, and walked out through the door leading to the hotel parking spaces.

The evening was damp and cool as he climbed into the 1960 Chevrolet Impala Sport Coupe. As he settled into the driver's seat, he looked down at the stick shift. It had been a long time since he'd driven a car with a manual transmission. In fact, the last time was during an op in Afghanistan. This time he wasn't on an assignment, but he hoped the result of this trip was as successful as that one had been.

XXXXXXXXXX

Back in L.A. that night, Kensi and Deeks headed into the boat shed. The agents had wrapped up their case—a fairly simple one involving drug trafficking among some enlisted Navy personnel at Port Hueneme—but Sam had asked them to meet him at the boat shed before heading home.

Kensi sat down on the couch and Deeks plopped next to her. "So, Kenz, any idea what Sam wants to talk about?"

"Maybe," she said, "it has something to do with the case Callen's working on." She paused. "He must be working on something special."

"Or maybe he's going to talk to us about whatever's bothering him." Deeks looked at Kensi with some exaggeration, "Don't tell me you didn't notice it. Sam was not himself today."

"I noticed it," she admitted. "Maybe what's bothering him has to do with Callen. Maybe he's working without overwatch again."

"You might be right," Deeks conceded. "I think having Callen as a partner sometimes drives Sam crazy. I mean, those two are nothing alike." Kensi gave him a look that told him she didn't want to hear anymore, but he continued, "Now, Callen and I would be good as partners. Not as great as you and I are, but good, really good."

"Deeks, honey, if you were Callen's partner, he'd probably quit. And then," she added with a wicked smile, "Hetty would probably kill you."

"Yea, that could be a problem."

"Just a tiny one," she said and squeezed his arm

As she finished speaking, Sam walked through the door. "Hey, Sam, my man," Deeks called out without getting up. Kensi said nothing because a sixth sense told her Sam had something serious on his mind. "So, are you going to tell us about the case Callen's working on?" Deeks continued.

"No," Sam stated simply.

"So," Deeks looked at Kensi briefly and then back at Sam, "you gonna tell us what's bugging you?"

Sam placed his hands on the back of a chair and faced them. He took a deep breath before he spoke and kept his voice steady, "G resigned from NCIS this morning."

"What?" they said in unison and stood up. Kensi immediately crossed to Sam while Deeks stood rooted in place. Several silent moments passed and then Deeks laughed.

"Oh, that was a good one, Sam dog. You had both of us fooled." He laughed a little more and glanced from Kensi to Sam, "Okay, Sam, you can tell us what Callen's really working on."

"He's not working on anything, Deeks. He resigned." The sharpness in Sam's voice startled Deeks, who looked at Kensi. Sam was done. He turned to leave, but Kensi went after him. She laid a hand on his arm before he opened the door.

"Please, Sam. You can't tell us Callen's resigned and then just leave. You need to tell us what happened. We deserve to know."

Sam turned back to his teammates, and his face reflected the stress he felt. "I don't know what happened, Kensi."

"But why did he resign?" Deeks approached Sam and joined the conversation.

"He didn't say."

"We all know Callen doesn't talk much, Sam, but he must have said something," Deeks said.

"You think I'm lying, Deeks?"

"Of course he doesn't, Sam," Kensi replied as the tension in the room increased. "It's just, for Callen to resign without saying why, to leave without saying goodbye, to any of us. There has to be a reason."

"Look," Sam said to both of them, "I don't know the exact reason G resigned. He may not even know himself."

Deeks caught the caveat, "Maybe you don't know exact reason, but you have an idea."

They fell silent. Sam finally took a seat at the table and Kensi and Deeks joined him. It was several minutes before he spoke, and he chose his words carefully. "We all know about G's past—his mother's murder, his foster homes, his sister's death—but these past few years have been especially tough." He paused. "We think of ourselves as a family. And we are. I consider you family, even Deeks."

"Thanks, bro."

Sam shook his head and continued, "Anyone of us could suffer a tragic loss at any time. When I lost Michelle, I wasn't sure I would survive that loss. If I'd lost Kam or Aiden, too, I don't know if I would have. But Callen helped me survive. Both of you helped me survive." He leaned back, "But G's suffered loss after loss these past few years, and I just don't know if we did enough to help him survive."

"We were there, Sam, but he never seemed to need us. He's never seemed to need anyone," Kensi said, hurt and confused by Sam's words.

"I know it doesn't seem as if G needs anyone—and that's on him—but he's lived his whole life alone. I didn't ask for help when Michelle died, but you were all there for me." He paused. "If we're a family, we shouldn't have to ask. None of us should." He stood up. "You asked what I think, Deeks. Well, that's what I think. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he just got tired. I don't know. I really don't know." He turned and walked out as Kensi and Deeks, without a word, watched him leave.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was almost 3 am when Callen neared Santa Lucia. Since he couldn't check the local hotels at this hour, he decided he'd go to the local beach, catch a few hours of sleep, and go for an early morning swim before beginning his search. He turned off the main highway onto the road leading to Cayo Jutias. There was a causeway that led past the metal lighthouse, and the beach was supposed to be just beyond the mangrove trees. Soon after he pulled onto the causeway, he stopped at the security checkpoint where the guard asked to see his passport.

"And why are you traveling to Cayo Jutias at this time of day, Señor Weston?" the guard asked as the light from the single bulb in the guard station cast a faint glow onto the dirt road.

Callen pulled out a paper that outlined his "research" and handed it to the guard. "I thought I'd get an early start on my testing because I have a lot of samples to collect and not much time."

The guard examined the document and handed it back to Callen. "You know that there are no hotels at Cayo Jutias?"

"I know. I'm just going to stretch out in the car until sunrise."

The guard leaned down slightly and looked in the car. He shook his head. Usually the Americans were the crazy ones. He waved Callen to go ahead. He drove slowly over the dirt and gravel, past the lighthouse, and right up to the mangrove trees. He parked and sat silently for a moment absorbed in the darkness. He heard the waves breaking rhythmically on the shore and the rustling of small nocturnal animals scurrying through the mangroves and the high-pitched squeaks of bats overhead. He wanted to get out of the car after the long ride, so he decided to go for a quick swim now even before catching a few hours of sleep. He probably wouldn't get much sleep anyway, and the water would help him relax. Callen grabbed the bath towel he'd brought from the hotel and stepped out into the moist air and cooling breeze. The mangrove trees formed an elegant border around the beach, and when Callen crossed it, he found himself on a wide collar of white, powdery sand. The moon cast silver shards of light across it and on the waves beyond. Callen stopped as he soaked in the serenity. He was a million miles away from where he'd been the day before. He took a deep breath. When he got closer to the water, he dropped the towel and sat down to remove his shoes. His bare toes dug into the sand, and he stood up and stripped off everything. His clothing stacked in neat piles on the towel, Callen headed toward the ocean already more relaxed than he had been in many, many days. At this moment he knew that coming back had been the right decision. And then he saw her, rising out of the surf and coming ashore, her wet skin shimmering in the moonlight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Thanks to all for reading and for the reviews! This chapter is "romance," but I really felt it was necessary to establish the relationship between Callen and Anna, so if you're not into this sort of thing, my apologies. The rest of the story will have some romantic scenes, but Dimitri is still around-and will be showing up sooner rather than later.  
_

Anna often went to the beach at this time of the morning since remaining behind in Cuba because it was beautiful and deserted and she swam undisturbed, alone with her thoughts and her memories. As she made her way toward the beach through the water breaking and swirling around her calves and ankles, she watched as the sea and the sand squished in between her toes and her footprints disappeared as soon as they were made. She smiled as a memory from a few years ago flooded in. She and Callen had just returned with Asakeem after hours of driving, and they were tired and hot and hungry . . . for each other. She had been surprised when Callen kissed her in the boat shed—he had always kept his personal life private—because they both knew the eyes and ears of NCIS surrounded them here. That's why she had not been surprised when, a little later, he had gradually pulled her from the couch and guided her to the door. Anna had been sure his intention was to take her home, but once outside, she had had other plans and had taken the initiative. There wasn't another person in sight, so she had bolted toward the water. As she had crossed the sand, she had shed her clothes and dared Callen to come and get her—and to her delight, he had. He hadn't shed all his clothes by the time he entered the water as she had, but when he had reached her as she drifted in the gently heaving surf, he had come to her—and more. And later that night when the old man had walked past them as they had lain naked together on the beach, Callen had returned his greeting without embarrassment. Callen had been more genuinely at ease that night than Anna had ever seen him before. The old man had been more concerned about the tiny sand crabs than their nakedness, and Callen had laughed and assured him that the sand crabs had not been disturbed. It was one of the few times she had ever heard Callen laugh, and she loved the sound of it. But she wasn't in California anymore and those happier days had become memories before she had even left. There were many times Anna wished she could go back and change what had happened, but she was only human and the past could not be changed. As she reached the water line and the beads of sea water dripped off her body and the sand under her feet became firmer, she brushed her hair off her face and looked up. He was walking towards her.

Callen stood, surrounded by the natural beauty of the key with its crystalline water and silken sand, but the only thing he saw was her light bronze skin and honeyed hair. She watched the water playing at her feet as she came ashore, naked and more beautiful than the last time he had seen her, if that were possible. He found he couldn't speak; the words caught in his throat. His mind urged his body to run, but his legs refused, so instead, he walked. His chest heaved. His hands clenched. Every nerve in his body throbbed. And suddenly she looked up and saw him. She stopped. He saw her body, languid and fluid only moments before become tense and motionless. It seemed like forever before he stood, silently facing her, his face a few inches from her own. She gazed at him, her expression unreadable. Her heart had already been shattered into a thousand bloody pieces. To have even those now smashed . . . . "Anna." She had never heard so much emotion whispered in one word. His soul and body ached. She could feel his need before he touched her. Her body relaxed. He wove his fingers through her hair as he brought his lips to hers. He felt her fingers caress his neck, and she felt the subtle quiver of his body at her touch. He breathed in the fragrance of her, and her hands lingered over every muscle and scar. Her skin, moist and smooth, pressed firm against his, and they became one body, warm and sticky, clinging to each other with a boldness born of emotions they could no longer restrain. Their mouths tasted every delight that lay bare and ripe. Their hands rediscovered the secret, pulsating places and found that time and distance had not lessened their desires. Tonight, at this moment, they were each other's life, each other's future, and they surrendered themselves to each other as the warm gulf waters washed over and under and between them and swept away all their fears.

XXXXXXXXXX

At the first hint of daylight, as the narrowest sliver of the sun breached the horizon, Callen woke. He turned his head and looked behind him. Anna, her body covered lightly with traces of the soft, white sand, lay curled against him, a wisp of hair across her face. He pulled himself forward slowly and then turned and lay facing her. She opened her eyes as he gently brushed the hair off her face.

"Good morning," she said, smiling.

Callen leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead. "Good morning."

She propped herself up on one arm, looked at him, and in a mock serious voice asked, "So, what brings you back to Cuba, Agent Callen?"

"I could say the beaches, but that wouldn't be entirely true."

"And I wouldn't believe you."

He never took his eyes from hers as he continued, "And it's just Callen."

She looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said as he brushed another bit of her away from her face, "that I've resigned from NCIS." He shrugged. "It was time."

For a moment, she said nothing, and then she sat up and pulled her knees close to her chest. "What did Hetty say?"

"Nothing. I sent her a text message."

Anna's eyes opened wide, "You sent Hetty a text message that you were resigning?"

"I made my decision when I was waiting at the airport."

Anna looked shocked for a moment and then tried to hide a smile and Callen looked at her, puzzled. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to imagine Hetty's expression when she got the text message from her senior agent that he's resigning."

Both sat silently for several moments and listened to the waves as the sun finally began to peak higher over the horizon.

"If that's what you want," Anna said and kissed him, "it was the right thing to do." Saying this, she smiled and stood up and brushed the sand off before she slipped her clothes on. Callen watched her for several seconds and then he stood up, brushed the sand off, and got dressed.

"It's what I want."

She reached over and took his face in her hands and kissed him again, "I'm glad."

"Where are you parked?" Anna pointed in the direction opposite from where Callen had parked. "Are you going to work today?"

She moved closer and rubbed against him. "I wasn't planning to."

"Good. Let's leave your car."

Anna picked up her towel and shoes and waited. Callen gathered his shoes and towel, and led the way. When they reached the car, Anna looked at the Impala with a discerning eye. "I see you're traveling in style, Mr. Callen."

"It's what they had available," he gave a quick shrug as he opened the door for her and then tossed his towel and shoes in the back seat alongside hers."But it was the most stylish one in stock that wasn't a boat." She leaned over and unlocked his door. The car's engine coughed slightly when Callen turned the ignition, but purred smoothly when Callen shifted into reverse and then into first and pulled out of the parking area and onto the causeway.

"Oh, wait!" Callen hit the brakes and looked at Anna who smiled apologetically. "I need my purse." Callen sighed, turned the car around, and headed back. Anna grabbed her purse, locked her car, and ten minutes later the Impala passed the checkpoint headed back to Santa Lucia. But Callen didn't take the road to Santa Lucia.

"Where are you taking me, Mr. Callen?"

"I'm taking you back to Cayo Jutias if you call me 'Mr. Callen' one more time."

Anna's eyes softened as she gazed at him. Callen had left NCIS for her. She still couldn't believe it, and in the far recesses of her mind, she wondered if he might regret it later on. But he didn't today, and that was all that mattered.

"Alright. So," her tone now slightly seductive, "can you tell me where we're going, or is it a secret, Grisha?"

The sound of Anna saying his name pleased him in a way he couldn't explain."It's a secret until we get there." And then he added, "In case I get lost on the way." He tossed her a smirk and shrugged, "No Waze."

Anna laughed softly and laid her hand on Callen's leg. He took one hand off the wheel and gently wrapped her hand in his.

XXXXXXXXXX

Callen and Anna spent the morning and early afternoon in the Valle de Viñales, a beautiful valley of traditional Cuban farms and scenic landscapes in the Sierra de los Organas mountains. They visited several of the caves along with other tourists, admired the imposing limestone cliffs and outcroppings, and stopped for a hearty meal at a local café before Callen turned the Impala down a narrow gravel road that led back into the forest growth. The tree canopy blocked out much of the sunlight and the only sound beside the engine hum and the tires on the gravel was the slight wind that rustled the leaves. Anna tilted her head toward the window and felt the breeze on her face, cool and heavy with moisture. She could not remember ever feeling so sure that this, right now, was what she wanted. And it was a good feeling. Callen glanced over at Anna and watched her as she closed her eyes and turned her face to the breeze. He had seldom been happy in his life, but he felt in his soul that what he felt now was genuine happiness—and he was slightly in awe, slightly confused, and slightly afraid all at once.

Anna heard the sound of water in the distance. She turned to Callen. "I didn't get lost," he said. He pulled off the road a few yards ahead, got out, and opened Anna's door. He took her hand and led her through the towering trees and tangled undergrowth. The path was faint, but easily followed. As they disappeared further into the dense green foliage, the sound of water grew louder and the air more moist, and then they stepped out into an opening. Before them rose moss-covered limestone cliffs and a layered waterfall that tumbled gently over ledges into a clear, blue pool with room for two. They were completely alone, and for the second time that day, they made wild, wet love.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_As always, thanks for your comments/reviews. This has been an interesting-more challenging-story. I've not tried to integrate "romantic scenes" into the middle of a suspense plot before, & giving the romance enough attention without diluting the suspense is sort of tricky for me & maybe not always successful. Anyway, thank you to the readers hanging in there & sharing your comments!  
_

Dimitri left the fourth hotel in Playa Santa Lucia disappointed. He had shown a photograph of Anna to several employees at each hotel, but none admitted to seeing her recently. In fact, only two had ever spoken to her and they didn't know her name. They both called her _belleza tranquila _ ("quiet beauty") because she seldom spoke, and she appeared and disappeared as if by magic. It wasn't that she was unfriendly. She never hesitated to greet them warmly, but they couldn't remember ever having a conversation with her. She kept to herself. Dimitri arrived at the fifth hotel with low expectations, but was pleasantly surprised. The desk manager, Ricardo, at the fifth hotel proved to be very helpful.

When Dimitri showed him the photograph, he smiled broadly, "Yes, she has offered massages to our patrons on several occasions." He gave Dimitri a quizzical look. "Are you a friend?"

Dimitri gave a short laugh, "Friend? Sometimes. I'm her brother."

Ricardo joined him in laughter. "I understand completely. I have three sisters."

"You have my sympathies," Dimitri said with a wink, but then he refocused the conversation. "So, have you seen my sister recently?"

"Ah, someone asked me that same question yesterday."

"Someone did? Who?"

"Someone who makes it his business to know what goes on in Cuba," Ricardo whispered.

"Someone like Lionel?"

"You know Lionel!" Ricardo exclaimed with surprise.

"I do indeed," Dimitri acknowledged with false modesty.

Ricardo immediately relaxed. If Dimitri knew Lionel, then in his eyes, Dimitri could be trusted.

"Well, when Lionel asked, I told him that I haven't seen you're her—your sister—in Playa Santa Lucia recently, but I told him I would check with some of my friends, and a friend of mine said he saw her in Santa Lucia one day ago, so she is probably working around Cayo Jutias and Viñales."

Dimitri seemed confused. "Isn't this Santa Lucia?"

Ricardo laughed. "Yes, this is one Santa Lucia, but in Cuba there are three Santa Lucias." He smiled, "There are many confusing things about Cuba."

"I'm beginning to see that. Three Santa Lucias?"

"Yes. This is Playa Santa Lucia—but many people refer to it simply as Santa Lucia because it is the largest of the three. Then there is a small town named Santa Lucia in the southern part of the island—it is not far from the infamous Bay of Pigs. And finally there is the town of Santa Lucia to the west of Havana near Cayo Jutias, one of the most beautiful beaches in all of Cuba, and Viñales, a town that is the gateway into Cuba's heartland. And that is the Santa Lucia where, I think, you will find your sister."

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam arrived at work early the next morning. He hadn't slept. To Sam, the fact that Callen had resigned, left, without a goodbye to anyone, including himself or even Hetty, meant that he was either working on something that was so dangerous he wanted to protect the team and organization at all costs or he was so feeling so depressed, feeling so isolated that leaving everything behind meant nothing. Neither option made Sam feel good. He was angry at Callen, but angriest at himself. He and Callen had been partners for more than ten years, but when things were going wrong for Callen or something was up in his life, Sam missed the signs too often. He thought Callen might have gone back to Cuba, but he didn't even know if he and Anna were still together. He spent almost every working day with Callen, and he didn't even know if his partner was in a relationship. What the hell kind of "special agent" was he? Whatever was going on with Callen, Sam knew he needed to make things right, if not for Callen's sake, then for his own.

As soon as Hetty walked in, he approached her. He saw that she hadn't slept well, either, but he made no comment. If he was stressed, he could only imagine how Hetty felt. Callen's resignation was taking a toll on both of them. After she had settled in and put her purse away and removed her laptop from her shoulder bag, she took her seat behind her desk and waited.

"Yes, Mr. Hanna?"

"Did you accept Callen's resignation, Hetty?"

She smiled her impish smile. "I wondered when you were going to ask me that question, Mr. Hanna. The answer is I did not. Of course, he doesn't know that since I didn't reply to his text." She pushed her chair back, walked over to a set of shelves, and selected a tea cup for herself. She asked, by her raised eyebrow, if Sam would like one. He shook his head. She set the tea cup on her desk and selected a tea from one of her desk drawers. This morning she chose pu-erh tea, a very strong blend, to help her face another day without Mr. Callen.

Sam followed Hetty as she walked over to complete her morning ritual. She put fresh water in the electric tea kettle and filled the tea infuser loosely with the chosen tea leaves and then placed it in the tea pot. It would be a few minutes before the water reached the correct temperature, so she turned her attention back to Sam.

"When Mr. Callen resigned, he had forty days of accumulated leave available. I have indicated that he is using those accumulated leave days now. If, at the end of those forty days, Mr. Callen has not returned to NCIS, I will be obligated to make his resignation official." She paused and looked Sam directly in the eye, "You have thirty-nine days, Mr. Hanna to see if you can find Mr. Callen and help him if he needs our help or let him know that we would very much like him to rejoin our family or perhaps both." And then she turned back to her tea.

XXXXXXXXXX

Callen and Anna arrived back at his hotel in the early evening. They would go back for her car tomorrow, but tonight, they would go out to dinner and relax and enjoy the sights and sounds of Old Havana like any couple on holiday. But before they did, Callen needed to make a phone call, and Anna needed to freshen up. She stepped into the bathroom while Callen made his call. When the man on the other end answered, it wasn't Lionel. It was the voice of a man Callen didn't recognize.

"Lionel?"

"No, this is Lionel's landlord."

"Where's Lionel?"

"Lionel is in hospital."

"Hospital?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"He was poisoned." And with that the man on other end abruptly hung up. Anna had returned to the room to hear Callen repeat the word, hospital.

Callen turned to Anna, "We have to make a slight detour."

"To the hospital?"

"Yes. I need to check on someone."

"Who do you know in Cuba besides me?" She looked at him suspiciously. "Joelle left Cuba as soon as I left the hospital," she mused.

"I wouldn't check on Jo."

"The only other person you know is," she concentrated and then she looked surprised. "Why is Lionel in the hospital?"

"He was poisoned."

She was genuinely shocked. "Poisoned? Who would want to poison Lionel? He's so sweet … and harmless."

"Someone doesn't think he is."

"I'm coming with you."

"Of course you are," he said and laid his hand on the small of her back as they left the room. The hospital was only a few blocks away. The early evening breeze moved through the streets in waves, cooling everyone in its wake, and then it weakened—worn out by the obstacles in its path—until it vanished, absorbed by the tourists and locals crowding the streets.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dimitri left Playa Santa Lucia angry that he had wasted an entire day. No matter. Now that he knew where Anna was, he would go to Santa Lucia and Viñales tomorrow. Ricardo had given him the names of the two hotels he thought would be the ones where Dimitri would most likely find "his sister." In a few more hours, he would be back in Havana, and wherever she was, Dimitri was sure that Anna would not see him coming.

XXXXXXXXXX

Callen and Anna stopped at the hospital's registration desk.

"Hello," Callen said. "We understand Lionel Fernandez was admitted late last night."

The attendant checked the admittance records before replying. "Yes, he was, but visiting hours are over for the day."

"We're friends from out of town and will be leaving soon. Could we just say goodbye and leave a note for him in his room?"

"Please?" Anna pleaded sweetly.

The attendant looked around and saw no supervisors, so he tilted his head to the right. "Room 145."

Callen and Anna walked down the corridor and stopped outside Lionel's room, They opened the door quietly and were met by a gun pointed directly at them. Holding the gun was a man Callen didn't recognize. The man stepped forward, lowered his gun, and smiled, "Anna."

She stepped forward and gave the man a quick hug, "Hello, Miguel." She brought Callen forward, "This is my friend, Callen."

Miguel offered his hand to Callen who took it."So, this is G," he said, clearly impressed.

After the handshake, Callen looked past Miguel to Lionel. He was asleep and had an intravenous tube attached to his arm, but he was breathing on his own. "How is he?" Callen asked.

"He's out of danger, the doctors say, but that is only from the poisoning."

"Any idea who?"

"Not yet, but if the person comes back, I will be waiting."

"Lionel mentioned that there was a new Russian in the city, someone he had suspicions about."

"The Russians—they always bring with them trouble," he said and then turned to Anna, "except you, of course, Anna."

"Wait until you meet her father," Callen said and Anna sighed, but her shrug told Miguel that Callen spoke the truth.

"Did they identify the poison?" Callen asked.

"The doctor said he thought it was methanol, that Lionel was suffering from methanol toxicity."

"He was at a café when he called me last night, probably drinking. That's where it might have happened."

Miguel smiled, "Very likely. Lionel is always at a café drinking. That is why he knows so much."

"Did he describe the Russian?" Anna asked.

"No. He regained consciousness for only a short time, but I'll ask him when he wakes up again."

"Give me a call," Callen said as he wrote his number down on a scrap of paper he tore from the patient log hanging at the foot of the bed. Miguel nodded. "You left Lionel's phone with his landlord."

"In case he needed to contact me. He does not have one, and I am here with Lionel."

Callen and Anna prepared to leave. "Please tell Lionel that we stopped by," Anna said. Miguel took Anna's hand and raised it to his lips.

"I will. He will be sorry he missed you," Miguel glanced quickly at Callen before returning his gaze to Anna, "both."

"Take care," Callen said as he put out his hand. Miguel shook it and then returned to the seat near Lionel's bed and resumed his watch.

Callen closed the door quietly, and as he and Anna walked down the corridor and out into the evening, he turned to her. "Exactly how well do you know Lionel and Miguel?"

She didn't answer and he put his arm around her waist. The night was beautiful and the streets busy, but Callen was not as relaxed as he had been earlier that evening. All of his senses were alert, focused instinctively on the sights and sounds around them. He knew that threats often appeared in ordinary places at ordinary times.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_As always, thanks for reading and sharing your comments/reviews. Appreciate them all!  
_

_(Just as an aside, I'd **love** to write for the series. I think every fanfic writer would, but until that opportunity opens up, writing these stories is the next best thing.)_

Just before sunrise the next day Dimitri left Havana. When he got back the night before, he called the two hotels Ricardo had suggested. Hotel Los Jazmines confirmed that Anna had two appointments at Cayo Jutias that day—she scheduled her appointments, but the hotels collected a small "reservation" fee from the guests, so Anna let them what days she had appointments, but not the times. The desk clerk at his hotel told Dimitri the drive to Cayo Jutias would take three hours, more or less. By leaving early, he hoped to arrive before Anna. In the trunk of his rental car, Dimitri had everything necessary to make sure that anyone who contributed to Volkoff's death paid for his death with their own—in a variety of ways.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sunshine slipped in through the open window and crept up the side of the bed until its fingers touched the two sleepers tangled in the sheets. Callen and Anna lay naked, legs entwined, their breathing rhythmical, their bodies relaxed, and their faces content. Anna woke first to the sound of the cars on the street below. She gently disentangled her legs from Callen's and slid out from under the sheets. She slipped his shirt on and walked to the window. The sunlight drenched her, enrobing her in its golden rays as she stretched her arms wide and closed her eyes. Here she was, in Old Havana, sharing a bed again with Callen. It all seemed a dream and she didn't want it to end.

Callen's arms slipped around her and his fingers rested gently on her, tracing figure eights around and below her naval. She felt his breath on her neck and then his tongue and then his lips. Her shoulders scrunched and her buttocks tightened and her head tilted back. She reached behind and ruffled his hair, then turned to face him and met his kisses with her own. His hands caressed her, softly at first, and then more firmly as he pulled her to him and she let his shirt slide to the floor. He took her back to bed.

XXXXXXXXXX

A little over three hours after he left Havana, Dimitri stopped at the guard station on the causeway to Cayo Jutias. The guard asked for his passport, and Dimitri handed it to him.

He smiled at the guard and asked, "I wonder if you've seen my sister. I was told by the hotel concierge that she'll be coming to this beach today." He showed the guard a photo on his phone of Anna. "She's a masseuse."

The guard handed Dimitri's passport back, "You have different names?"

"Different fathers," Dimitri admitted.

That satisfied the guard, "Yes, I saw her yesterday morning."

"So, she's not here now?"

"She could have come back, but I have not seen her. She left yesterday with a man."

"A man?" Dimitri seemed puzzled, but then scrolled through the photos on his phone and showed the guard a photo of Callen. "This man?"

"Yes, Señor Weston."

"Weston?"

"Yes. He is here to study ocean pollution."

"Of course. I'd forgotten his name." His expression turned serious, "I think she might be involved with him, if you know what I mean."

"I understand and I think you might be right."

"Brothers know, don't we? But, we're protective and have to make sure that our sisters make good choices. You don't know if she came with him, do you?"

"She came in her own car, before he came."

"So she drove?"

"Si, yes, her car is still here, but I have not seen her today."

"I'd like to leave a note for her," Dimitri said, "to tell her where I'm staying. Do you remember her car?"

"Of course. I remember all the cars. Your sister's car is a red Valiant. Mr. Weston drives a light blue Impala."

"Thank you, very much," Dimitri replied and gave the guard a quick salute as he drove ahead.

There were a few parking areas, and Dimitri didn't spot Anna's car until the last one. There were four other cars parked there, but the red Valiant sat by itself. Dimitri parked next to an old Cadillac convertible and walked over to the Valiant. He peered in and saw a massage table and a small duffle bag that contained various lotions and oils. Anna had not arrived yet. Dimitri walked over to the beach and quickly scanned the area, but there were few people present and none that matched Anna's or Callen's description. So, she had left with Agent Callen, Mr. Weston, the day before and had not yet returned. That meant he might be bringing her back. He could wait, but it might be hours before she returned. And he didn't have to wait. He walked back to his car and lifted out one of the duffle bags from his trunk and walked back to the Valiant. It would be better if she died when he wasn't around. He didn't want too many questions. And of course, Lionel was still alive. Dimitri had returned to Lionel's apartment only to see him being lifted into the ambulance. He didn't come thousands of miles to leave work unfinished. This was, after all, a working vacation for Dimitri. He hadn't come to Cuba for the rum and cigars.

When he drove past the guard station about thirty minutes later, Dimitri stopped again and motioned to the guard that he wanted to talk to him. Since there was no incoming traffic, the guard stepped around to the other side and leaned down to speak to Dimitri face to face.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked.

"Well," Dimitri replied with a slight nod, "there's no telling when she'll return, but I left a little something for her. She'll know I'm here."

"That's probably wise. Maybe she will not be coming back today. If she's gone to Havana with Mr. Weston, she may not return today."

Dimitri pulled away and then stopped suddenly and leaned out the driver's window. The guard approached. "Why did you say she's gone to Havana?"

"Well, that's where Mr. Weston is staying." Dimitri gave the guard a puzzled look, so the guard continued, "There was a parking permit from Iberostar Parque Central on his car's dashboard." Dimitri waited, and the guard explained, slightly exasperated, "The Iberostar is in Havana."

Dimitri smiled, "Ah, it's a hotel."

"A very elegant hotel, so if Mr. Weston has taken your sister there …."

"He has honorable intentions?"

"Maybe, maybe not, but she will have the best of everything," he replied.

"And she deserves it." Dimitri had never used the "caring brother" cover before, but it was proving to be so effective and easy he would be foolish to not use it again. "Thank you very much. I'm going back to Havana today, so maybe I can find them before they come back." He paused just long enough to pretend to think, "And when she comes back, please don't tell her I'm looking for her. I want to surprise her." The guard assured him that his secret was safe, and Dimitri gave him a big smile and short salute. The guard watched him drive away and was pleased with himself. After all, a big part of his job was to be helpful.

XXXXXXXXXX

Callen picked his shirt up off the floor and slipped it on. Anna lay on the bed and watched him, the sheet strategically positioned across her from the waist down.

"We can't stay inside all day," he said, trying hard to sound like a reasonable, mature adult.

"Why not?

"Because I'm starving."

"So am I."

"I mean for food."

In one simple motion, Anna reached behind, picked the phone off the nightstand, and set it down in front of her breasts that beckoned him with each breath. "Call room service."

What the hell. Neither of them could make up for years of loneliness in a few days, but they could try. The phone clattered as it hit the floor. Callen felt Anna open to him and their two bodies blending, but in a distant corner of his brain Callen's training warned him that an unknown danger was approaching.

XXXXXXXXXX

Callen couldn't remember ever getting out of bed so late when he hadn't been either sick or injured, and he had to admit, he could get used to it. After their latest lovemaking, Anna had at last relented and told him that he was right: they needed to eat and they should go get her car. Neither of them had had anything solid to eat for over twelve hours, so it was no wonder they felt a little weak with all the energy they'd expended. And she was worried about her car. If it looked abandoned, someone might think that it was abandoned and then they would take it, and even though it was old and not in perfect condition, it was hers. She paid for it with her money, and she told Callen she was going to get some of her money back when she got rid of it. Callen laughed. She sounded just like Arkady's daughter.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dimitri was furious. He was hot and tired and so far beyond impatient that it took all of his mental discipline to remain composed when the rental car accident vehicle finally showed up.

The rental car employee, a man about Dimitri's age, pulled up behind Dimitri and got out.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Kuznetsov."

"So am I," Dimitri said, seething. "Do you know how long I've been waiting?"

The man smiled wanly and then opened the trunk and grunted as he lifted the spare tire—which although inflated appeared somewhat worn—out and rolled it to Dimitri's rental and leaned it against the rear fender. He looked at Dimitri and waited. Dimitri raised his arms in exasperation. The man pointed at the trunk.

"I need the jack, Mr. Kuznetsov."

"Of course you do," Dimitri said as he pushed the man aside and opened the trunk. He picked up several duffle bags from the trunk and put them carefully on the side of the road near the front bumper. The man retrieved the jack, raised the car, and changed the tire out in less than thirty minutes. He replaced the jack and carried the flat tire back to the company car and tossed it in the trunk, and then went to help Dimitri reload the duffle bags, but he had already placed them back and slammed the trunk shut. The man came back with a clipboard and handed Dimitri a pen. Dimitri took a deep breath and scrawled his signature across the bottom of the paper as a light blue Impala drove past in the opposite direction unseen by either man. The repair job completed, the man tore off a copy for Dimitri, gave him another apologetic smile, and got in his car and drove away. Dimitri got in, checked his watch, and continued, less than 100 miles from Havana, but now more than four hours behind schedule.

XXXXXXXXXX

The sun was balancing just above the horizon when Callen pulled up to the guard station on the causeway. The guard who checked their passports was not the one who had done so the day before or the one who had checked Dimitri's earlier, but when he saw the name Weston, he leaned down and smiled at Anna.

"I hear your brother came looking for you this morning."

"My brother?" Anna leaned across Callen and looked at the guard with surprise, and the guard immediately cursed under his breath when he remembered that he wasn't supposed to mention it.

"I must be mistaken," he said as he tried to rectify his mistake.

"Wait," Anna said and took her phone out of her purse. She ran through the photos and then showed the guard a photo of a man. "Was this the man?"

"I didn't see him. He wants to surprise you, so I wasn't supposed to say anything. I'm sorry."

The guard who had worked earlier and spoken with Dimitri stepped into the station with two plates of food from a small food stall nearby. He overheard Anna's comment and scowled at his fellow guard, but looked at the picture on Anna's phone.

"Yes, that's him."

Anna smiled at both men, "He does this to me all the time, tries to surprise me." She winked and continued, "I won't tell him."

"Thank you," the guard said as he handed back their passports and waved Callen through.

Callen drove ahead and when he reached the parking area where Anna had parked her car, he pulled in. There were no other cars near Anna's, and Callen parked the Impala about twenty feet away from it.

"So?" Callen said, looking at her.

Anna stared at the photo.

"Who is he?"

"Miguel mentioned a Russian. If anyone in Volkoff's circle wanted revenge for Volkoff's death, it would be him." Her voice carried conviction and some anger.

"What's his name?"

"Dimitri Kuznetsov." Callen waited. There was something else. Anna's feelings seemed more personal. She was silent for several moments before she put her phone away and turned to him, "He took Katya back to Russia. He killed her."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_As always, thanks for reading and for the comments! That's probably one of the nicest things about sharing writing-hearing what your readers think, so thanks to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment. _

Callen and Anna got out and studied the area around the car before approaching.

"I noticed your passport."

"Funny, isn't it," Anna replied without a hint of amusement.

"Was that Joelle's idea?"

"It was. I've gotten some interesting comments because of it although a lot of people don't know the book." She paused and said quietly, "She relates to the character more closely than I do, I think, and I think that makes her sad, in a strange sort of way." She glanced at Callen, "And you know that makes you Wronsky."

"I never did like _Anna Karenina_."

They stopped about ten feet from the Valiant.

"So," Callen said casually, "you know Dimitri. Do you think he's rigged it?"

"I do."

"Explosives?"

"I don't know," Anna said and glanced at Callen, "but you should probably check." She held out her keys.

"Thanks," he said as he took them.

"Where's Sam when you need him. By the way," she added, "Dimitri likes poisons."

Callen went to the Impala's trunk and got a rag.

When Callen reached the Valiant, he turned around. "You should step back."

"Absolutely not." She stayed where she was and stared at him.

He unlocked the doors and, using the rag as a makeshift glove, he opened each door less than a quarter inch and slid his lock pick the length of the opening beginning at the frame and ending at the frame. He did the same with the hood and trunk, and once he determined that there were no trip wires, he opened the trunk and hood completely to check for any explosive devices that could be triggered by movement, ignition or braking. After inspecting the engine and trunk from above, Callen slid under the car to check the undercarriage, being careful to not touch any part of the car with his bare hands. He checked under the trunk first and then moved to the engine. After a few minutes he slid out and stood up. "It's clear."

"So," Anna said, "if Dimitri didn't rig it with explosives, he must have done something else. It doesn't make sense for him to come all this way and do nothing."

"Agree. There are no explosives and no trackers," Callen replied and leaned through the driver side door to check the interior. Anna walked to the passenger side and examined the car's interior on her side. They looked at each other across the front seat. "Does anything look different, out of place? Is there anything that shouldn't be here?" Callen asked.

"No, there's nothing different."

They turned their attention to the back seat, but the only items were the massage table and the small duffle bag.

They each stood up and looked at one another across the car's roof, puzzled.

Finally, Callen said, "You said he likes poisons."

"He does. He likes lots of things—guns, knives, garrotes—but I remember he knew a lot about poisons. 'They all have their uses,' he said."

Callen looked back at the car's interior. "Do you have a Kleenex?"

Anna gave him a quizzical look, but walked back to the Impala and brought two tissues. Callen took one and leaned into the car. Anna watched over his shoulder as he used his lock pick to carefully and gently press a tissue against a section of the seat back. Four fairly large—but almost invisible—needles poked through the tissue. He then carefully took the second tissue and gently pressed it against the seat bottom and four more needles poked through.

"I hate needles," Callen said and turned to Anna whose eyes had grown wide with shock. "My guess is that if one of these pricked you, you'd feel more than a sharp pain."

"I'd probably be dead in a few minutes."

Callen wrapped his arms around Anna and held her close without saying a word, and when he released her, she took a deep breath. They both realized how close she'd come to death. If not for the guard's slip and mentioning her "brother" . . . .

Callen broke the silence. "So, your friend wants to keep his killings quiet for now—poisoning Lionel, poisoning you."

"He's not my friend. He's a гребаный ублюдок." Callen's expression of surprise at Anna's swearing was spontaneous. She rarely swore, and she swore in Russian even less. She was more than angry; things were getting personal, and when things got personal in their line of work, things often started to go wrong. Both of them needed to stay alert, stay focused, and stay calm. Callen took this moment to cool things down and get both of them concentrating on the problem they faced as the professionals they were.

"Sanctioned or not," Callen said calmly, "Dimitri is obviously targeting people here associated with Volkoff's death . . . ." His voice trailed off as he got out his phone and placed a call. "Hello, Miguel? Callen. Is Lionel conscious?" He waited briefly and then, "Yes, Lionel, this is G." Callen's expression indicated that Lionel's recent hospitalization had apparently had no effect on his ability to carry on a prolonged conversation—mostly one-sided. Callen finally interrupted, "Yes, Lionel, we understand and we were sorry we missed you, too, but that's not the reason I'm calling. We think we know who the Russian is you saw in the café. It's very possible that he poisoned you, and it's also possible that he knows you're not dead." This information was more than Lionel wanted to hear in his current condition, and there was a slight pause as Lionel handed the phone back to Miguel. "Miguel, Anna's going to send you a photo. Ask Lionel if this is the man he saw in the café." Anna sent the photo to Miguel via a text message, and after a few minutes, Callen received confirmation that Dimitri was, indeed, the man Lionel saw. "Miguel, his name is Dimitri Kuznetsov. He was close to Volkoff, and he seems to be targeting those involved in Volkoff's death. Anna says he's a fan of poisons and knows how to use them. There's also a chance that he knows Lionel's not dead. Do you understand?" He paused and overheard Miguel and Lionel talking, and then Miguel returned to the line. Callen listened and then continued, "Alright. No, don't tell me. You have my number and Anna's and we have yours." Callen listened for a few moments and then brought the conversation to an end, "Yes, we will. Take care." He hung up and turned to Anna. "It might be awhile before we see or talk to either Miguel or Lionel again." Callen and Anna were on their own, but they'd been on their own before. Now that he'd finally found what he wanted, Callen wasn't going to lose it.

They turned back to the Valiant. Callen reached over and put his arm around Anna's shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. "You know you're not going to be able to drive it."

"I know."

"It's not even safe to get your supplies out of the backseat."

"I know," Anna said with sigh and looked at the table and duffle bag.

"But we have to make it safe because someone will be interested in it or kids will play on it. We can't let them get hurt."

"I know." Anna laid her head on Callen's shoulder and then stood up straight. "I need a picture of it." She gave him a little shove toward the car.

Callen look at her with bewilderment. "I never rode in it," Callen reminded her.

"But you would have," she smiled somewhat wistfully. "Besides, the name suits you."

She took a picture, checked the image, and glanced at Callen as he walked back to her. "You didn't smile."

"I just discovered that a Russian stuck needles—probably poisoned—in the seat of your car—that that we almost missed—and has possibly coated its surfaces with poison, so we have to destroy it to make sure others aren't harmed. Why should I smile?"

"Maybe if you thought about this morning," she suggested and quickly took another picture. She checked the image. "Much better."

Callen locked the Valiant and they walked back to the Impala together. They had quite a bit of shopping to do before the day was over.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dimitri reached Havana and pulled into the wide brick drive of the Iberostar early that evening. He handed the valet the key as he strode into the lobby. He had regained his composure and even though his timeline had been disrupted, he believed the element of surprise gave him the advantage and allowed him to maintain control of events. He crossed to the front desk.

"I hope you will be able to help me, Ms. Ramirez," Dimitri addressed the young woman on duty with a pleasant smile.

"I will do my best, sir," Ms. Ramirez replied with a smile of her own.

"I visited a friend of mine who's staying here last night, but I left my phone in his room. I didn't note the room number and wonder, could you tell me his room number, and I will go see if he's in?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't give out that information."

"Perhaps you could call him then? His name is Weston."

"Of course," she said as she checked her computer and then dialed Callen's room number. Dimitri watched carefully, and when the call went unanswered, he understood.

"Thank you very much, Ms. Ramirez. I'll come back a little later to see if he's returned."

"Yes, of course."

"Is there a men's lavatory?"

Ms. Ramirez pointed across the lobby. Dimitri thanked her and walked in that direction, but instead of entering the lavatory he slipped out a side door. He jammed the locking mechanism to allow him entry from the outside, then walked back through the lobby after a minute or two, and made sure that Ms. Ramirez saw him as he walked out the front entrance.

Once outside, he walked to his car, removed a few items from a duffle bag, and then re-entered the hotel through the side door. He rode the elevator to Callen's floor. After making sure the hallway was clear, he opened the door and slipped inside Callen's room. He left the room about twenty minutes later and took the stairs to the lobby where he slipped out the side door again, making sure the door locked behind him. Now, Dimitri decided it was time he visited Lionel in the hospital.

XXXXXXXXXX

The sun was sinking in the sky when Callen and Anna returned to Cayo Jutias. All the other cars in the parking area where the Valiant sat had disappeared. That made this much easier. The back seat of the Impala held several new purchases: scrubbing brushes, a bucket, dish soap, kerosene, clear tubing, a small auto fire extinguisher, and two large hunting knives in sheaths. Callen filled the bucket with water and dish soap at the public restrooms and they washed the Valiant's exterior with the brushes. (Since some poison could eat through latex, Callen bought brushes.) Water still dripped off the car as Callen sliced through the front seat upholstery carefully but completely and Anna did the same to the back seat. Once the upholstery was thoroughly slashed, Callen took the knives back to the Impala and carried back the container of kerosene and the fire extinguisher. He stood next to Anna, placed the fire extinguisher on the ground, and handed her the kerosene container.

She stepped forward to the Valiant and drenched the seats thoroughly, walking from the driver to the passenger side and back to make sure the kerosene was evenly dispersed. Callen rolled the windows down about a third of the way, and when Anna had emptied the container, he closed the doors. He then took the two pieces of clear tubing and inserted them into the gas tank, stuffing the opening with the oil rag to seal it. He placed the end of the longer piece of tubing into the kerosene container, and he put the end of the shorter piece in his mouth and blew. In a moment, gasoline began flowing through the longer tubing into the kerosene container, and when that was filled, he lowered the tubing into the channel he'd dug in the dirt with his knife. When the gasoline stopped flowing, Callen put the tubing through the open windows while Anna capped the kerosene container and put it on the floor of the Impala behind the passenger's seat.

Callen took two matchbooks out of his pocket and handed one to Anna. He stood next to the Valiant on one side and she stood across from him. They each lit a match and dropped it in the front seat and then lit a second match and dropped it in the back seat. The closed doors helped contain the fire while the open windows provided enough oxygen to keep the fire burning. The approaching darkness hid the smoke, and after the fire had burned almost twenty minutes, Callen used the fire extinguisher to smother it. They looked at the charred remains. They had done everything they could to make sure that the car would pose no danger to anyone. It had been a long day, and Callen and Anna were ready to get some rest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_Thanks for the comments/reviews! I'm going out of town for a few days, so this will be the last installment for probably a week-I just wanted to assure those reading that I haven't forgotten. :-)  
_

Before Dimitri headed to the local hospital to terminate Lionel, he paid a brief visit to the Russian embassy in Havana. Being a member of the FSB, he had unhindered access to all the embassy offices, so when he found what he needed, he slipped out as unobtrusively as he came in. The fewer people who saw him in Cuba—even his fellow countrymen, the better.

He made his way to the hospital shortly before 7 pm that evening. As he approached, he slipped on the white coat and medical ID badge he'd lifted from an embassy medical staff member. He wasn't concerned about the badge being Russian as it wasn't uncommon for Russian medical personnel stationed in Havana to visit and cooperate with their Cuban counterparts on behalf of patients. Finding Lionel would not be difficult. He'd faced more troublesome obstacles than hospital staff and if they posed a problem . . . he fingered the syringe in his coat pocket.

XXXXXXXXXX

Callen and Anna did not return to his hotel that night. Anna suggested they spend the night at her flat because it was closer which meant they wouldn't have to navigate Havana's traffic. An added bonus was that it was near a restaurant that had some of the best seafood on the island, and both of them were famished. Callen had no objections. Anna needed to get some things together anyway, and they could go back to his hotel room tomorrow. And he trusted her completely when it came to choosing restaurants since his go-to food was either a Big Mac or a Double Double.

They took the main highway, the Carretera Central, most of the way to Havana, but exited at Rosa Marina and drove north until they reached the Carretera Panamericana and headed east. A little before 10 pm and after a dinner of some of the best calamari he'd ever had, Callen pulled the Impala into a gravel driveway beside a small, stucco cottage with a bright Afro Cuban mural commanding the exterior wall. The neighborhood was fairly quiet although many of the surrounding houses and apartments had lights shining through the shades and people sat and talked on porches in the dark or by candlelight.

When they exited the car, the gravel scrunched under their shoes. Anna took out her key, pushed open the door, and stepped in, and Callen followed and closed the door behind him. Anna switched on the light. A tin chandelier suspended from the ceiling illuminated the room. It was a single room, no more than 20 x 25 in size with a small galley kitchen along the back wall and a double bed butted up against the wall that separated the room from the driveway. A gooseneck lamp sat on the small table beside the bed. Opposite the bed was a small closet and next to it a wire stand with a few baskets that held odds and ends. The tiny bathroom was in the corner between the kitchen and the closet. There were two unmatched wooden chairs around a small, square, brightly painted wood table situated halfway between the bed and kitchen. And that was all. "This could almost be my place, except for that table," Callen said pointing to the brightly painted one. "That would keep me awake at night."

"That's my favorite piece," Anna laughed and drew her top over her head and threw it over the back of a chair. "And I doubt that anything will keep you awake tonight." She headed into the bathroom. When she came out a few minutes later, Callen's clothes were tossed across a chair and he was under the sheet sound asleep. Anna removed the rest of her clothes and crawled into bed, curled up against his naked body, and laid one arm gently across him and tucked her other under her pillow.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Good evening," Dimitri said as he approached the hospital's registration desk. There was no response, so Dimitri repeated his greeting a little louder. The attendant on duty snapped his book shut and hastily removed his earbuds, startled to see a visiting doctor waiting on him. Dimitri frowned and viewed the young man with a critical stare. The attendant, rattled by the unexpected visitor, checked Dimitri's identification in haste, and failed to notice the marked differences between the photo on the badge and the man standing in front of him. He saw a man in a white doctor's coat wearing a medical badge in Russian which he couldn't read who appeared and acted official. "I understand that you have a patient suffering from methanol toxicity, Lionel Fernandez." The attendant checked the patient admittance records and told Dimitri the room number. He watched Dimitri walk down the corridor, checking the room numbers carefully, and eventually reopened his book and replaced his earbuds.

Dimitri reached the door of Lionel's room as a nurse came out of a patient's room a few doors down and cast a glance in his direction. He smiled. She didn't. She looked down at the chart she carried, not interested in socializing and then walked in the opposite direction. The last thing she wanted to do at the end of a long shift was engage in small talk with some strange doctor. Dimitri clasped the syringe in his coat pocket and opened the door of Lionel's room.

As he left Lionel's room, Dimitri's steps echoed through the tiled corridor. The attendant had just hung up the phone when he heard Dimitri approaching. Dimitri's body language and expression projected irritation, even anger, and he slapped his thigh with considerable force. The attendant called out before Dimitri reached the entrance, "Doctor, was there a problem with Senor Fernandez?"

"A problem? Yes, there was a problem," Dimitri almost shouted. "He wasn't there." And with that he passed out the entrance and disappeared into the Havana night.

The attendant, confused, looked around the now empty and eerily silent reception area and then picked up the desk phone and dialed the head nurse.

XXXXXXXXXX

A little after midnight, Callen woke up. Looking into the darkness, he momentarily forgot where he was, and then he felt Anna beside him. The headlights of a passing car shone through the window and cast a fleeting abstract pattern across the opposite wall. A dog barked in the distance. He rolled onto his back and Anna's arm slid across his chest, but she didn't wake. He stared at her hand and smiled and then shifted his gaze to the ceiling. The nightmares hadn't returned since he'd arrived in Cuba. He'd come back to Cuba because of Anna, but now he was glad he was here because of Dimitri. Callen knew that even if Dimitri was working alone and unsanctioned, as a member of FSB, he would still have access to things—weapons, transportation, intelligence—through the Russian Embassy. As a former NCIS agent, Callen had access to none of those things, and Anna, as a fugitive, was even more isolated. She couldn't even go to the American Embassy. He wondered if, perhaps, he should have resigned _**after**_ his trip to Cuba. Of course, he probably would have been fired if he'd made this trip while an agent, so it was six of one, half a dozen of the other. For the briefest possible second earlier that night after they discovered the needles in Anna's car, Callen thought of contacting Hetty, but he tossed it aside. He was pretty sure Hetty wouldn't appreciate another text message from him. He turned back on his side and fell asleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dimitri believed that he had things under control only a few hours earlier, but now he felt that he was losing control quickly. He needed to get command of the situation soon or risk running out of time, discovery by his FSB superiors, or failing completely. He needed to know tonight if Anna had survived Cayo Jutias. If she had, he would need to resort to measures that were less stealthy but more reliable. He made the decision to drive back to Cayo Jutias that evening, but before doing so, he returned to the Iberostar. Even now, it was possible that both Anna and Callen lay dead in Callen's hotel room.

When Dimitri entered the hotel lobby, he was still wearing the white coat. He had hoped to slip in unnoticed, but Ms. Ramirez at the registration desk recognized him, and when she smiled at him, he couldn't ignore her.

"Ms. Ramirez, hello again. I was wondering if Mr. Weston has returned yet."

"I didn't realize you were a doctor," she said impressed. "I haven't seen him, but I did go on a dinner break, so it's possible he returned. Would you like me to ring his room again?"

"Yes, please."

She did and when there was no answer, she shook her head.

"He must be having a good time," Dimitri said with a short laugh. "I'll come back tomorrow. I can survive without my phone for one night." He glanced over at the bar across the lobby. "But I may not be able to survive without a cocktail."

"Enjoy your evening," Ms. Ramirez said as the phone on her desk rang. "Good evening, Iberostar Parque Grande. How may I help you?"

Dimitri crossed the lobby, avoided the bar, and again took the elevator to Callen's floor. He waited until the hallway was clear of guests and then opened the door and, covering his nose and mouth with a handkerchief, made a quick check of the room. Empty. Callen had not returned to his hotel. Dimitri didn't know if that was because Anna was dead and he was on the run or because he and Anna just hadn't returned yet. It was time to find out.

XXXXXXXXXX

The guard who had been on duty when Callen and Anna arrived earlier that day was in the guard station when Dimitri drove up that night and presented his passport.

"So, did you find your sister and Mr. Weston, Mr. Kuznetsov?"

Dimitri's expression became inscrutable and he said to the guard, "I don't think I've seen you before. How did you know I was looking for my sister and Mr. Weston?"

"The other guard, Pedro, mentioned it to me when I came on duty. It was such a special story. He thought it was quite the," he searched for an expression, "historia conmovedora."

"It is," Dimitri agreed, smiling. "Did you happen to tell my sister that I was looking for her?"

The guard smiled back and shrugged, "Pedro told me to keep it a secret, but I did tell her by mistake. She seemed happy to know that you were trying to find her, but I'm sorry if I spoiled your surprise."

"That makes two of us." The guard raised his head in time to see Dimitri fire one shot into his chest. There were no witnesses and the muffled shot echoed into silence in the night air. Dimitri drove past the guard's body now lying half on the causeway and past the empty parking areas until he reached the burned hulk of the Valiant. He got out to check, but he already knew: Anna was still alive, and that meant Callen was still alive.

Dimitri left Cayo Jutias after midnight and headed back to Havana. Once he returned to the city, he would make life much more difficult for both of them.

XXXXXXXXXX

Very early the next morning, Callen and Anna were awakened by a soft, rapid knock on the door. Anna grabbed Callen's shirt and threw it on as she opened the door slightly. Standing at the door was one of her neighbors, an elderly woman, who was clearly upset.

"Luz, what is it? What's the matter?"

The woman spoke in a rapid whisper, "Miss Anna, you must leave, quickly. The PNR, policía, they may be coming."

"Why? Why would they come here?"

"The radio says you and a Eugene Weston," and Luz looked past Anna and saw Callen getting dressed, "killed a man at Cayo Jutias last night." Luz gave Anna a look that said she had been in love before, and admired Anna's choice of a lover. "I know you did not because you and su amante have been home all night. But they will take you away no matter what I say. You are la extranjera, a foreigner."

"Thank you, Luz."

"I like you, Miss Anna, but you should go, both of you."

Luz scurried away and Anna saw that Callen, already dressed except for his shirt, was packing a small duffle bag he'd found in the closet. Without a word, Anna handed him his shirt, got dressed herself, and packed another small duffle bag. In less than ten minutes they were in the car and driving through the colorful neighborhood that was Jaimanitas.

"We need to change cars," was all Callen said as they headed south.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_I know I said I wasn't going to update this story for awhile-and I am out of town-but I had started this chapter and just had to finish it. Sorry to leave it like this, but I probably won't update until next week. I apologize up front for any typos. As always, thanks to everyone who reads and especially to those who leave comments. Those really make sharing writing enjoyable! (I've tried correcting the typos as I've found them. lol)  
_

Callen and Anna arrived in San Jose de las Lajas, about twenty-six miles south of Havana, forty minutes after leaving Jaimanitas. They listened to the state news radio and heard fairly detailed physical descriptions of themselves. The news also included Callen's real name and that Eugene Weston was an alias, as well as Anna's real name and the name she was traveling under.

"Damn," Callen said through his teeth when he heard both of his names mentioned along with both of Anna's. Those guards had good observation skills, good memories, and definitely liked to talk. Actually, it was only the one guard now. Callen was sure Dimitri had killed the other and incriminated them in the murder. It didn't help their situation that Dimitri already knew Anna and probably knew quite a bit about Callen. The only thing the policia had gotten wrong so far—besides them murdering the guard—was that he and Anna were CIA operatives on a clandestine mission, but Callen imagined that that wasn't really an "error" by Dimitri. Callen was certain it was intentional misinformation. Not many ordinary citizens knew about NCIS—even in the U.S.—and there would be far fewer in Cuba. But, everyone knew the three letters C-I-A. This was a mess.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dimitri decided to put his search for Lionel on hold temporarily. Since Lionel was less likely to depart the island than either Callen or Anna, they were now his priority. When he notified the authorities—anonymously, of course—he provided the policia with a convincing account of the murder of the guard the previous night, and they had been most appreciative. But Dimitri wasn't interested in having Callen and Anna captured only to rot in a Cuban jail. No, they had to die either by his hand or by the hands of the Cuban authorities. And though Dimitri had provided the policia with substantial information, he had deliberately withheld all information about Lionel. That would only complicate the account of the murder, and that was information he retained for his own use. He might not know where Lionel was at the moment, but he did know where he might find someone who could, nevertheless, provide him with useful information.

XXXXXXXXXX

San Jose de las Lajas was an old city of fewer than 70,000 people and even fewer automobiles. As Callen and Anna entered the city limits, they stayed well within the speed limit and kept their eyes focused on finding a suitable vehicle. The selection was minimal, and most of the vehicles they saw were in use. They weren't going to actually carjack anyone, so they needed to find an unattended vehicle that could be taken while causing the least amount of disturbance. The last thing they needed was to catch the attention of the local authorities or citizenry. Up ahead, Anna pointed out a group of cars and trucks parked haphazardly in a dirt lot. At one end of the lot was a food-produce stand, and around it stood a group of approximately fifteen men ranging in age from their early twenties to probably more than eighty. The majority of them were holding their morning meeting, trading stores and gossip about each other and their neighbors as they enjoyed their coffee and breakfast bread before heading off to another day of drudgery and labor. Callen pulled in to one end of the lot behind an old pickup and a Bel Air that had seen better days. He looked at Anna.

"Someone might need the truck for work," she said as she grabbed her duffle bag and slid out. Callen followed. Neither door of the Bel Air was locked, so they tossed their bags in the back seat . There was a toolbox and a lunch pail already in the back seat, and Callen took those and put them in the Impala's front seat along with the Impala's keys while Anna waited in the front seat of the Bel Air. He hotwired it in less than ten seconds, and they drove out of the lot in the opposite direction to avoid passing its possible owner. Once they had driven through San Jose de las Lajas using side streets and avoiding the city center, they again headed south on the main road. When Callen's phone rang, it was on the seat between them, so Anna picked it up. She looked at the number, but didn't answer it.

Callen asked, "Is it Lionel?"

"No."

"Miguel?"

"No."

"Then don't answer it."

"I think I should."

He didn't understand, but he shrugged his shoulders in acceptance.

"Hello, Hetty," Anna said and watched Callen's reaction. He immediately pulled off the highway and stopped.

"Hello, Ms. Kolcheck, my dear. How are you?"

"I've been better."

"I'm sure that's true."

"Would you like to talk to Callen?"

"Yes, I would. Thank you."

Anna smiled and held the phone out for Callen to take. He looked at it as though it was something out of one of his nightmares, but gave up and took it.

"Hetty."

"Mr. Callen."

"How did you get this number?"

"That's a long, somewhat complicated answer. Let's suffice it to say that our Canadian counterparts are not pleased that a pseudo Canadian citizen is being charged with murder and drug trafficking."

"Drug trafficking?"

"Yes, it seems that when the police went to the hotel room of Eugene Weston this morning, one of the officers was hospitalized after inhaling a large dose of carfentanil when he checked the bed sheets." She paused. "I'm going to assume that you were the intended target."

He hesitated. "Probably, and Anna."

"Would you like to tell me what's going on, Mr. Callen? Right now, I have a vague idea, but I would appreciate having a more complete picture."

Callen took a deep breath. "I'm not sure I owe you a more complete explanation, Hetty, since I'm no longer an NCIS agent."

"That may be, Mr. Callen, but I like to think you still trust me. Humor me."

"This may take awhile."

Back in Los Angeles, it was three hours earlier, and only a skeleton staff were present in OSP at this hour. Sitting at her desk, Hetty poured herself a cup of tea and leaned back. "Oh, Mr. Callen, I have as much time as you can spare."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Good morning," Dimitri said when Lionel's landlord opened the door. He presented his FSB credentials quickly. "I'm assisting the policia in their search for several fugitives, and I have reason to believe that your tenant, Lionel Fernandez, might have contacted them recently—completely unaware that they are criminals."

"Lionel is in hospital."

"Yes, I know. I understand he was poisoned," he said with concern. "He might have been poisoned by these two fugitives, so I would like to check his apartment and see if there might be a note or some detail that would help us in our search."

Without saying anything, the landlord left Dimitri at the door and returned a minute later with Lionel's phone. He held it up to Dimitri.

"Is this Lionel's phone?"

The landlord nodded, and Dimitri started to take it, but the landlord stopped him. "No, you may not take."

"I'm afraid I must," Dimitri said as he smiled and put the phone in his jacket pocket. When the landlord reached for it, Dimitri quickly grabbed him, turned him around in a chokehold, and broke his neck. He then laid him back in his apartment and shut the door.

XXXXXXXXXX

"So, Mr. Callen, it seems that going to Cuba was the right thing for you to do. Now, I will clear up any problems with our Canadian counterparts. What are your immediate plans since staying in Cuba doesn't seem to be a viable option for either you or Ms. Kolcheck?"

"We're heading south. Lionel and Miguel both thought the north coast, the route to Florida, would be closely watched and Anna and I agreed. And the airports are out."

"Jamaica?"

"Miguel has a contact in Cabo Cruz. If we can get there, he has a boat and we'll head for Montego Bay. It's one hundred miles, but most of that will be in international waters."

"You won't have to travel on hundred miles, Mr. Callen. I'll be sending Sam to meet you."

"Sam on the water? The perfect assignment for him."

"Indeed," she said with a Cheshire smile. "He'll be on a plane today."

"He doesn't need to come, Hetty."

"Oh, I know that, but do you think I could stop him?"

Callen had to smile, "No, he can be pretty stubborn."

"Much like his partner."

"His ex-partner."

"We'll discuss that when you get back."

Callen appreciated Hetty's willingness to help, but he knew after these past few days that he wasn't coming back to NCIS permanently if Anna couldn't return with him. But since he wasn't sure they'd make it out of Cuba, that was a point to be discussed later. "We need to get there tonight. It's roughly twelve hours from Havana taking the major roads, and we will have to take some side roads to avoid road blocks and probably change cars again."

"Do whatever you need to do, Mr. Callen, but try not to injure any police officers. Feel free, however, to eliminate Mr. Kuznetsov if the occasion presents itself."

"We'll do our best."

"And be sure to keep me updated on your progress."

"You make it sound as if I still work for you."

"You do, Mr. Callen." And getting in the final word, Hetty hung up. She then placed another call immediately. "Good morning, Mr. Hanna. You need to meet me at the office now. You'll be leaving for Jamaica this morning. Pack what you need."

Sam was instantly awake. "Is it G?"

"It is indeed."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Well?" Anna asked when Callen put his phone back on the seat.

"I feel like I'm on assignment."

"In a way, you are."

"Yea, but it feels like it's an assignment for Hetty."

Her voice became serious, "What was all that about drug trafficking?"

"It seems Dimitri thoroughly dusted my bed at the hotel with carfentanil." Callen pulled back onto the highway. "I really hate that guy."

XXXXXXXXXX

At the Russian Embassy, Dimitri was working with one of the technicians. They had checked the telephone numbers of incoming calls to Lionel's phone and had identified one number that was from a phone purchased in the U.S., and the call had been placed recently. Once that number had been isolated, the technician tracked its usage by hacking into the array of stingray towers the Cuban government had installed to monitor cell phones. Dimitri had Callen's actual phone number while the policia had the fraudulent number he'd provided on his hotel registration and car rental agreement, so he had a good chance of completing his mission without policia interference or knowledge. He expected the tracking of the phone number to show it near Havana or along the coast somewhere east of the city, waiting for the cover of darkness to head for the Florida Keys. Instead, the tracking data showed the phone to be heading southeast, toward Jamaica.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_Things are getting a little complicated with Callen and Anna traveling the length of the island, so I've tried to keep the story from becoming a travelogue and hope I've succeeded. If not, my apologies. As always, comments/reviews are appreciated.  
_

Sam was on one of the first flights out of LAX that morning headed for Jamaica. Hetty had filled him in with the details Callen had shared with her, and he had reviewed everything they had on Dimitri Kuznetsov before leaving. It wasn't much. He had never been very active outside of Russia, but since Volkoff's death, he seemed to have been active only inside Russia. That was one reason his trip to Cuba seemed to be more of a personal operation than one sanctioned by the FSB which meant he was essentially unrestricted by official protocols to accomplish his goal. And if that goal was the death of Callen and Anna, Dimitri had the distinct advantage because he had the Russian Embassy and everything that included while Callen and Anna had Lionel, and Dimitri had already sidelined him. Callen and Ann needed to leave that island yesterday.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dimitri loaded an older, unmarked sniper rifle into his car and left the Russian Embassy after instructing the technician to keep him updated regularly about the location of Callen's phone. It was true that he hadn't been on the firing range in several months, but Dimitri had excelled at marksmanship, and if the conditions were favorable, he believed he could complete his mission with two shots. The most difficult thing for him would be to identify their route. He was sure they would take some side roads to avoid most of major cities and the locations where roadblocks were likely to be set up, but they couldn't completely avoid the Autopista Nacional or the Carreter Central de Cuba-the two main highways running the length of the island, so he needed to determine where they were headed. Dimitri believed that Anna's legal situation formed the basis of his initial idea that they would head for Jamaica. (Unlike the Cuban authorities who readily accepted Dimitri's fabrication, Volkoff's connections had confirmed that Anna was not a CIA operative.) Because of Anna's status as a fugitive, Florida was out of the question. The Yucatan was too distant. Even though the U.S. Naval Base at Guantanamo Bay lay ahead of them, Dimitri didn't think it likely that they were headed there, not only because of Anna, but also because the base was heavily fortified by both the Unites States and Cuba. Reaching it meant traveling through Caimanera, a city you could only enter with Cuban identification papers and permission—neither of which they could acquire on such short notice. So, that left Jamaica or crossing the Windward Passage to Haiti as the two most plausible escape routes. Dimitri favored Jamaica, but because Haiti was a possibility, it meant that Dimitri needed to choose a point before the roads to these different destinations diverged. He checked his map again and headed for Las Tunas. Patience, Dimitri knew, was often as important as skill in his line of work.

XXXXXXXXXX

Callen pulled onto the highway and made a quick—and undoubtedly illegal—u-turn and headed back in the direction they had come.

"Why are you heading back to San Jose de las Lajas?"

"The policia probably have road blocks set up further ahead. They don't know where we're going, but they probably know that we were in or near Havana. Our best bet is to avoid the main highways as much as possible."

She was impressed. "I didn't realize you were so familiar with Cuba."

"I'm not, but I always do my homework even when I'm taking a vacation." He raised an eyebrow. "I also looked at a map after Miguel told me about his contact in Cabo Cruz." He paused before adding, "I think you should take the batteries out of our cell phones." She did so and put them in the glove compartment.

They continued north on the Autopista Nacional and took the Via Blanca exit when it appeared. Callen continued east on this less-traveled road for an hour until they reached the town of Matanzas. Here, in this city which was not on any route that would be considered an escape route out of Cuba, they found a small café and grabbed a quick meal. When they had finished, they headed for the open air market found in every Cuban city and where a shopper could find almost anything she or he needed.

Callen parked the Bel Air on a side street and they decided it would be best if they entered the market separately. They agreed to meet back at the car in twenty minutes whether they had finished their shopping or not. They couldn't chance remaining in any one place too long.

"See you in twenty minutes," Anna whispered in Callen's ear and then she disappeared down the street and into the market that was filled with stalls and tables and people. She completed her shopping in less than twenty minutes and returned to the Bel Air to wait only to find Callen already there, his sunglasses on the hood of the car, affixing a license plate he'd obviously lifted from another vehicle to the front of their car.

He stood up. "Were you able to get what you needed?" he asked as he put the wrench back in the trunk, grabbed his sunglasses, and slid behind the wheel. His bag of purchases already sat on the back seat.

"I was," Anna said as she set her bag on the back seat. "It's almost like the Pasadena Swap Meet." She slid in next to him holding a large thermos that she put on the seat between them. He looked at it curiously.

"Water?"

"Cuban coffee."

"I hope I'm not going to have to stop every fifteen minutes for you to . . . you know."

"You won't," Anna smiled. "I'm not going to drink it. But, since you brought it up, I do need to stop at a restroom before we leave."

"I'm stopping for gas before we leave town."

"That'll work."

Anna settled back and in a few more blocks, Callen pulled into another line at a gas station. It was true that California had a lot of traffic—more traffic than Callen liked, but you rarely waited in line for gas. Of course, gas was more expensive in California. The memory of sitting in the Challenger and listening to Sam gripe about the price while he pumped gas made Callen smile just a little. And, of course, Sam also complained that Callen never paid, but as Callen explained to Sam repeatedly, it wasn't his car. He was brought out of this memory by Anna grabbing her bag and the thermos and opening the car door.

"I won't be long," she said as she disappeared across the blacktop and into the ladies restroom.

In fifteen minutes, Callen pulled up to a pump, paid the attendant, and filled up. After he pulled away from the pumps, Anna still hadn't come back to the car, and Callen began to worry. He parked on the blacktop. He got out of the car. He waited. He began to wonder if something had happened, if someone had recognized Anna. He hadn't watched the restroom door continuously to see who went in or came out. As he started walking toward the building, the door of the restroom opened and a woman came out. She had chin-length light brown hair and wore sunglasses, a broad rim straw hat, a black off-the-shoulder t-shirt, and short jean shorts. Callen stopped, did a double take, and then nodded in approval. Anna set her bag on the back seat and the thermos on the car's hood. "I told you I wasn't going to drink it," she said as she draped her arms around his neck. Her hair was still slightly damp.

"I love coffee." He bent towards her and kissed her.

After a few moments, she drew away and her eyes grew mischievous. "And I have something for you." She took a step back, took off her sunglasses, and looked at him critically. "I think your left arm."

"What about my left arm."

"I need it."

"You want me to take it off?" he asked with typical sarcasm, but she was nonplussed.

"No, it can stay attached, but I need you to roll up your sleeve a little."

"It's not needles, is it?"

"Don't you hate needles?"

"Yes," he said, visibly relieved, and rolled up the short sleeve of his shirt twice so that his bicep was exposed. Anna took hold of Callen's left wrist and pulled his arm gently so that it was straight against the side his torso, as though he was standing at attention.

"Is this going to take long?" he asked.

"Not if you hold absolutely still."

She then took a black eyeliner pencil and wrote the words **SIN MIEDO** vertically in large, dark capital letters on his skin above his elbow. She took her time and wrote the letters carefully but with a touch of artistry.

Callen watched as the words appeared on his arm. "Sam said I wasn't a tattoo person."

"I can think of at least two times Sam was wrong," she said without looking away from her work. "Anyway," she continued, "I bought you something to make up for the body art." When she finished writing the words, she took a step back and reviewed her work, and Callen glanced down at his arm, lifting his sunglasses so he could see it better.

"Nice. That could pass for a tattoo if you don't inspect it closely."

"I'm not quite finished," she said as she took a small can of hairspray out of her shopping bag and lightly sprayed the eyeliner letters. "There, that should keep it from smudging until we leave." When she put the hairspray back and put her sunglasses on, she pulled a light blue guayabera shirt out of her shopping bag and held it up. "Blue is your color."

Callen took off the shirt he was wearing, rolled it up, tossed it in his bag on the back seat, and put on his new shirt. 'Thank you," he said. "Now I feel bad that I didn't buy you something."

"Don't. What did you buy?"

He reached in and brought out his bag from the back seat and peered inside. "Oh, you know, the usual things you need in case you get shot or stabbed or seriously injured some other way: bandages, gauze, aspirin, a penknife, distilled water, sugar."

"The typical tourist's shopping list," Anna said with a smile, "although I'm a little curious about the sugar."

"It goes with the coffee," he said with a sly wink and then he touched the eyeliner tattoo with his finger. "I think I could get used to this."

"And shock your team."

"My former team."

"I got the feeling that Hetty didn't see them that way."

"Hetty always sees things her way," Callen said and Anna couldn't argue with that.

They got in the car and Callen headed south along less traveled roads to Jagüey Grande. Traveling through the towns of Unión de Reyes, Pedro Betancourt, and Pedroso would keep them off the Autopista Nacional entirely for this stretch of their journey. Even in a small country like Cuba with relatively few roads, it was impossible for the authorities to cover every route. Callen's job was to make the attempts by the policia—and Dimitri—to capture or track them as difficult as possible because he knew they were looking for them.

XXXXXXXXXX

Back in San Jose de las Lajas, a man in his early 60s discovered his tools, his lunchbox, and the keys in the front seat of a newer, light blue Impala. He was momentarily confused, but finally not interested in why someone had exchanged cars with him. Instead, he thought it was about time he had been given something better because he knew he deserved it. He didn't bother to make a report to the policia about his missing Bel Air. He was going to enjoy his good fortune. He got in, adjusted the seat, and drove his new Impala to work, singing "Chanchullo."

XXXXXXXXXX

Hours had passed since the authorities received information about the murder of the guard at Cayo Jutias, and the road blocks outside of Havana in every direction had produced no leads and no suspects. The policia lieutenant tasked with apprehending the fugitives was sure that Callen and Anna had left Havana hours earlier. The Florida escape route was the most convenient, but it was also relatively easy for the authorities to monitor. And, although they knew that Eugene Weston was an alias and could find no information about Grisha Callen, the caller who had reported the guard's death had also informed them that both Grisha and Anna were CIA operatives, and there was no reason for the policia to consider that information false. Many CIA operatives worked in Cuba even today, and the government authorities were suspicious of most Americans who traveled to Cuba—especially those who used aliases. If they were still on the island, the lieutenant thought they were probably headed for the U.S. Naval Base at Guantanamo Bay. The journey would take twelve hours or more and would give Cuban authorities plenty of time and opportunity to capture them. There were multiple possible routes to the city of Guantanamo, but once they arrived in that city, getting to the naval base would prove a challenge. The base had only one land entrance, and reaching that entrance meant traveling through Caimanera, a militarized city that in many ways resembled a military base itself, complete with guard towers. Any attempt to bypass this city and enter on foot meant successfully navigating thousands of land mines planted by both the Cubans and the Americans. It was more likely, the lieutenant thought, that they would make an attempt to reach the base by water somewhere between Punta de Maisí and Santiago de Cuba or perhaps cross the Windward Passage to Jean-Rabel in Haiti, 70 kilometers distant. These assumptions were the reason the lieutenant had established road blocks at the cities of Guantanamo, Caimanera, and Baracoa and increased coast guard patrols along the coast between Santiago de Cuba to the southwestwest and Maisí to the northeast. He didn't consider an attempt to reach Jamaica likely given the distance, but he added an extra patrol to cover the extreme southwestern tip of the island and the port closest to Jamaica, Cabo Cruz.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Callen and Anna reached Jagüey Grande, they had been on the road for a little more than three hours and still had ten hours or more until they reached Cabo Cruz. If they maintained this pace, they should arrive before 8 pm. Once there, they had to connect with Miguel's contact and then wait until dark to set out which would, hopefully, allow them a few hours for rest. Their time on the water would depend on the speed of their boat and the speed of Sam's boat. They'd been lucky so far, and Callen hoped their luck would hold. It wouldn't.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_I needed to get this scene done as soon as possible, so here it is. Thanks, as always, for the comments/reviews. Appreciate them!_

Dimitri arrived in Las Tunas shortly after 3 pm. He'd been stopped at two road blocks on the Carretera Central de Cuba, but with his FSB credentials, he'd been permitted to continue even though his rifle caused the policia some concern. When he reached Las Tunas, he continued through the city until he departed the city limits to the south. He drove only a few more miles and then exited the Carretera Central de Cuba. He pulled off onto a narrow side road among fields and warehouses and drove a short distance before he parked on the side of the road. He disassembled his rifle and put the pieces into a duffle bag along with a box of ammunition and a large coil of climbing rope. He left his car and walked up the road back toward the highway until he reached a mature tree that stood in a narrow strip of land directly beside the southbound lanes of the Carretera Central de Cuba. Dimtri tied a rope around the handles of the duffle bag, and then proceeded to climb into the upper branches, the other end of the rope secured to his waist. Once he found a suitable limb from which to observe the oncoming traffic with enough foliage to hide him from view, he hoisted the duffle bag up and reassembled his rifle. Dimitri settled in and waited for the call from the technician that he had guessed right.

XXXXXXXXXX

Callen and Anna crossed the Autopista Nacional once as they moved from the center of the island to the road that hugged the southern coast, and they had yet to encounter a road block. More than five and a half hours had passed since they left Jagüey Grande. It seemed that the new owner of the light blue Impala had been satisfied with the trade because the few policia they had passed on the Carretera Central de Cuba had shown no interest in their Bel Air. Callen wondered how long it would be before the Impala's new owner realized he'd been given a rental. It could be weeks. After all, Eugene Weston wasn't going to be dropping it off anytime soon, and Callen knew the rental company would have a hard time locating either him or their automobile.

Callen had changed the license plate on the Bel Air once more when they stopped briefly in Trinidad. People seldom memorized their license plates, so he imagined these changes would go undetected for weeks. Later, when they stopped for gas in Sancti Spiritus, the attendant had complimented him on his tattoo—which he knew Anna would never let him forget. He did have to admit that having one, even a temporary one, gave him a better understanding of why people got them in the first place. And she had definitely picked a message that resonated—No Fear.

As Callen and Anna approached Cascorro, they decided that they had to send a text message to Miguel. They should reach Cabo Cruz in approximately four hours and they needed to give him time to notify his contact so that he could make the necessary preparations. It looked as though they might not have as much time to rest before getting on the water as they had hoped. Sam always said that being on the water was relaxing, but Callen doubted that any of them would find this particular time on the water relaxing. Anna re-inserted the battery in Callen's phone, turned it on, and sent a cryptic text to Miguel that they would arrive in four or five hours and to give their number to his contact and text the contact's number to them. They would send the contact a text message shortly before they arrived. She didn't expect or wait for an immediate reply. She turned the phone off and removed the battery, but the damage was done. The technician in the Russian Embassy detected the brief activity and notified Dimitri that Callen's phone was located just south of Cascorro. Dimitri waited. In one hour he would complete his mission.

XXXXXXXXXX

"You know I can drive if you're tired."

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to drive once we get past Las Tunas. From there," Callen said, "it should be about 3-4 hours to Cabo Cruz."

"Of course," Anna replied.

"Why don't you get some rest now. I'm not sure how much time we'll have to rest in Cabo Cruz before we need to leave." He gave her a little smirk, "That'll depend on your driving."

"In that case, I'm sure we'll have hours," Anna replied with cheerful confidence. The idea of getting some rest, though, appealed to her. She reached in the back and took her old clothes out of her shopping bag, scrunched them into a makeshift pillow, and plopped it on the seat back next to the car door. She swiveled her body so that her back faced Callen and drew her knees up onto the seat and then slid her right hand under the "pillow" to hold it in place, tucked her chin in, and closed her eyes. The absence of bumps and potholes in the road allowed her to settle down enough so that while she didn't actually fall asleep, she was able to get some rest. Her breathing slowed and the tension in her body that she hadn't even noticed began to melt away. She readjusted her hat so the sun didn't beat down directly on her face and tightened the chin strap so the breeze didn't carry it away. It was a beautiful day and they'd made good time. Once they passed through Las Tunas, they were three-quarters of the way to Cabo Cruz.

XXXXXXXXXX

The bullet split the windshield, and the shattered glass exploded inside the car. Callen, blood oozing from his right shoulder, held the car steady and put the accelerator down until it was flush with the floor mat. Anna jerked upright at the sound, and he reached out and pushed her head down with his right hand, grimacing with pain.

"Stay down!"

A second bullet shattered the passenger window behind her as the Bel Air tore past the huge tree that held the sniper. Dimitri, unable to adjust his rifle's sight once the car passed, was down the tree and running for his car as the Bel Air accelerated. Anna got on her knees on the car seat and reached behind her, bringing Callen's shopping bag and her scissors up to the front seat. After a few minutes, Callen slowed down, grateful there were few other cars on the highway. They couldn't afford to attract the attention of passing motorists or the policia. Anna grabbed the small scissors and began cutting the bloody shirt away from his shoulder wound. After almost twenty miles, Callen pulled off onto a side road and drove until the Carretera Central de Cuba was out of view. Once the car was parked on the road shoulder, Callen fell back against the seat, his eyes closed, his lips taut, his face a picture of pain.

Anna took gauze and opened the jug of distilled water. She gently flushed the wound and was preparing a pressure bandage with the gauze when Callen raised his hand.

"Pour in a little sugar."

"What?"

He smiled wearily, "I'm serious." His brilliant blue eyes closed momentarily and he winced, but when he looked at Anna again, they pleaded with her.

She rummaged in the shopping bag and pulled out the small bag of white sugar. She used the scissors and cut a small corner off.

"Not the whole bag," Callen said with mock seriousness.

Anna's expression showed that she understood the importance of what she did and the care needed to do it right. Holding the bag carefully, she poured a small amount of sugar into the palm of her left hand. She set the bag down on the back seat—careful to make sure it stayed upright—and then transferred the sugar to her right hand. With her left hand she spread the shirt away from the wound, and then she carefully sprinkled sugar into the wound. She looked at Callen anxiously. She had no idea if she had used enough. Callen tipped his chin down and glanced at the bullet hole now a combination of red blood and white sugar.

"Looks good," he said quietly.

Anna finished creating the pressure bandage and applied it to the wound. She then took hold of his left hand and placed it on top of the pressure bandage. "Put pressure on it."

"So that's why it's called a pressure bandage."

Anna cocked her head and said with mock regret, "Some people don't know how to take care of their clothes. I didn't even get a photo of you in your new shirt." Then she took the scissors and cut away his shirt and removed it completely, pulling him forward gently so that she could pull the shirt up and away. She noted that there was no exit wound. That was not good.

"What you won't do to get my shirt off."

"I think you might be going into shock."

"Maybe," he agreed as he looked at his left arm, "but, it's not all bad. He spared my tattoo." He noted that she wasn't making a second bandage. "No exit wound?"

She shook her head.

"Well, let's hope it doesn't move around," Callen said with a wry smile. Both of them knew that his brachial artery hadn't been damaged because there was no massive bleeding, but they also knew that a bullet left in the body could move and if the bullet moved, it could cause massive bleeding if it nicked or cut through that artery, and that could lead to complications or even death.

Anna wrapped the bandage across Callen's chest and over his shoulder to hold the pressure bandage against the wound. When she finished, she reached in the back and pulled up his old shirt.

"You want me to cover up?"

"Now, I know you're going into shock," she said as she helped him put his shirt on. The effort of putting on his shirt exhausted Callen and he leaned back against the seat. Anna used the now bloodied and cut guayabera shirt to clean off the hundreds of tiny droplets of blood that covered the seat, the dash, and the steering wheel. When she was finished, she threw the shirt out the window and out of sight into the bushes that lined the road, and then she leaned back against the seat.

"How do you feel?"

"Like hell."

Anna remembered what she'd forgotten and reached back into Callen's bag. She pulled out the aspirin and put two in Callen's hand. He popped them into his mouth and Anna helped hold the jug of distilled water he drank to wash them down. She set the jug on the floor next to her feet and sat back again.

"Do you think it was Dimitri?" she asked.

"I'm sure it was."

"How?"

"Probably my phone." Callen shifted slightly and tried to get comfortable, but his shoulder was starting to throb angrily. "If Dimitri knows you, I'm sure he knows me—at least my name and former employer. I'm sure he's the one who gave our names to the policia."

"He might have Lionel's phone," Anna stated, and there was a lengthy pause before she continued, and when she did, her voice reflected a new level of anxiety. "He might have Miguel's phone."

"I doubt it," he said, trying to assure her. "Miguel knows this island and I'm sure he can keep himself and Lionel out of harm's way. Dimitri won't be in Cuba forever."

They both sighed, and then Anna shook herself awake. They needed to move and she needed to drive. She opened her door and slid out. "Can you slide over?"

Callen scooted his butt across the seat slowly, trying not to move his right arm too much. His bandage was hidden by his shirt, but every time he moved his arm, the pain shot through his body. And the more he moved his arm, the more likely it was that the bullet could move within his soft tissue.

Anna stepped over to the driver side and then went to find the guayabera shirt she had thrown into the brush. She brought it back and wrapping the bloodied fabric around her fist, she told Callen to cover his face. She used the shirt to clean out the rest of the front windshield, pushing as much of the glass out onto the shoulder as possible. When she had cleared all the shards, she threw the shirt away a second time and got into the driver seat. Callen leaned against the seat, his eyes closed. She reached across him and pulled the lap seat belt up and fastened it so that it held him in the seat.

He opened his eyes a slit. "It's nice to know you care."

She took his face in her hands and kissed him quickly, "Of course I care." She leaned down and picked his sunglasses off the floor mat and handed them to him. He put them on slowly and she grabbed hers. Their sunglasses were the most eyewear protection either of them had now. Anna checked Callen once more and then started the ignition, put her hands on the wheel, pulled onto the road, and headed south again on the Carretera Central de Cuba. She knew they needed to send Dimitri on a different track if they were going to make it to Cabo Cruz alive.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_Thanks for the comments/reviews! Appreciate them! There may be a little more time in between chapters now that their escape is getting closer because I need to get things worked out-I don't want to have to go back and fix something or write myself into a corner if I can avoid it, but I expect to have this story completed before the Season 11 premiere. (Had to make a few edits for typos)_

_XXXXXXXXXX_

"Dimitri knows what we're driving," Callen said as they continued south. "We need to change cars."

"We need to get off this road," Anna replied, but she was worried. "Maybe we should go back to Las Tunas and wait until tomorrow."

"Not an option. The longer we stay on the island, the more chance we'll be identified. Besides," he continued with a raised eyebrow, "how long before that coffee washes out and my tattoo smears?"

When Anna saw a left turn onto a side road ahead, she pulled into the lane and made the turn. They were off the Carretera Central de Cuba, but the side road was not in good condition and she worried about the effect the rough road, with its potholes and ruts, would have on Callen's wound. She pulled off the road and looked at Callen with her concern obvious in her expression.

"I know what you're thinking," he finally said to break the silence.

Anna stared straight ahead, her hands on the wheel, and closed her eyes. Callen could see a tear suspended in the corner of her eye. He reached out with his left hand to wipe it away, but she turned her head.

"Anna, . . ."

She shook her head. "It's nothing. I'm just tired." She opened her eyes but couldn't look at him. "When you left Cuba, I thought I'd never see you again. Nothing mattered. And then, there you were." She turned to face him, "To have gone through all of that and all of this only to be facing the possibility of being separated again . . . I don't know if . . ."

He reached out again and she didn't turn her head away. "We're not going to be separated again. I didn't come to Cuba and burn up a car, become a fugitive, get a tattoo, and get shot again only to leave you."

"The tattoo's temporary," she reminded him.

He shrugged in acknowledgement, "Isn't everything?"

"Not everything," she stated with finality, and then she put her emotions aside, and they both considered their situation with clear heads.

Callen spoke first, "Dimitri knows our car. We don't know his. That gives him an advantage."

"A huge advantage."

"If we stay on the main road, he may be waiting for us up ahead."

"If we stay on back roads, there's a risk that the bullet in you will cause more damage, serious damage," Anna reminded him.

There was a considerable pause before Callen spoke, "Then I guess you'll have to take it out."

Anna's expression was one of reluctance. "No."

"Yes."

"Callen, I could nick or cut an artery."

"Maybe, but there aren't that many in the shoulder. This isn't the first time I've been shot there. And I know where the major artery is located, and right now, the bullet isn't near it, but if you don't remove it, it could gravitate there."

"Callen, . . ."

"It'll be simple. The bullet hasn't struck any bone. It's probably in muscle tissue and not too deep because of the distance and passing through the windshield slowed it down."

"Probably isn't good enough. Besides, I don't have any antiseptic."

"You can use the rum," he said, "but only if you leave some for me."

"When did you buy rum?"

"I didn't; it's from your place. No point leaving it behind."

Anna was still not convinced that removing the bullet was a viable option, and Callen knew that if he couldn't convince her, she wouldn't do it.

"Anna, we have miles of travel over rough roads if we stay off the main highway, and our chances of getting to Cabo Cruz alive are better if we do that. Yes?"

"Yes."

"But, as you already said, taking back roads increases the risk that this bullet in me will migrate and maybe cause major damage." Anna said nothing, so Callen continued. "So, I'm willing to offer a compromise because I don't want to try to remove the bullet myself."

"You wouldn't!"

He didn't answer, but continued, "If you look—I mean really look—and don't find the bullet, we're done, we'll leave it alone. If you do see the bullet, you'll make at least two serious attempts to remove it, but if you can't remove it, we're done, we'll leave it alone. Finally, if I pass out while you're looking for the bullet, you still have to promise to make two attempts to get it out. Agree?"

There were several seconds of silence.

"Agree, but if I'm going to make a serious exam, you'll need to move."

Without a word, Callen undid his seat belt and stepped out. Anna, grabbed the penknife and walked around the car. She checked the sun's position in the sky.

"I think you should sit on the end of the seat and face me, and you'll need to remove your shirt."

"You're always finding reasons for me to take off my shirt," Callen said as he removed his shirt with a little stiffness and a little grimace.

Anna carefully removed the bandage she had put on earlier. She flushed the wound with distilled water again and then had Callen adjust his position so that the sun provided better light for her examination. He watched her and absently reached out and touched her hair. She ignored him and concentrated on her examination of his wound, using the penknife to carefully pull back tissue from the wound tract. She sighed and sat back.

"No luck?"

"I see it."

"Can you reach it?"

"I think so, but I can't remove it without tweezers."

"In the duffel bag with the rum."

She looked at him with an earnest expression. "Are you sure you want me to try and remove it? It's going to be painful."

"It already is painful, and I trust you—I know you'll be as gentle as possible."

"If I don't get it in two tries, I just leave it and we go on. That's the deal?"

"That's the deal." He used his left hand to cross his heart and waited. Suddenly, Anna got up and went and got the bottle of rum and tweezers out of the duffel bag Callen had brought. She poured some rum over the penknife and tweezers and then handed Callen the bottle. He took a swig. "I'm ready."

"Don't move," she said and she meant it. She slid the penknife slowly into the wound, her eyes darting between the penknife and Callen's face. His expression remained stoic. Her progress was slow, but Callen didn't rush her. When she finally reached the bullet, she moved the knife blade slightly and slowly to the left to get past the bullet. She then eased the tweezers into the wound, avoiding touching the tissue as much as possible, and when she reached the bullet, she allowed the tweezers to open and continued pushing them into the wound until she thought the tweezers had enough of the bullet's surface area to grasp. She closed them and began to pull the bullet steadily up. Callen held his breath and his body became taut. When Anna had the bullet almost halfway up through the wound path, the bullet slipped out. "Damn." The bullet didn't move, but she needed to use the penknife again to push the tissue away so that she could insert the tweezers. Anna glanced at Callen who was watching her. He nodded that he was doing fine, but when she turned back to the bullet, he took another lengthy swig of rum.

After this second effort, Anna brought the bullet out and dropped it on the ground. She looked over at Callen. He gave her a weak smile, "Thank you."

She looked at the bullet on the ground, "I think I got most of it."

He glanced down at it, "You did."

"I don't want to have to do that again."

"You need to talk to Dimitri about that."

"I'll do more than talk to Dimitri," she said, and Callen watched her closely as she got to the business of cleaning and bandaging his wound again, washing it out with water, pouring in a little sugar, and replacing the pressure bandage with a clean one.

"I almost feel sorry for Dimitri," he said when she'd finished.

"You've lost more blood," she replied.

"I was shot," he stated as he gingerly slipped his right arm through the sleeve of his shirt and pulled it up with his left hand. He then slid his left arm through the sleeve and began buttoning. Anna was standing, watching.

"I think you'd be more comfortable lying down in the back seat, your right arm against the seat back. It would help keep that side of your body steady." Without even waiting for his reply, she opened the car door behind him, leaned in to the back seat, and moved the bags to the floor, throwing the tweezers in the shopping bag. But, when she picked up the rum to put it in the bag, Callen held out his left hand.

"I'll keep that." She handed it to him and he raised his eyebrows, "It might break."

Anna smiled sarcastically, "Uh-huh."

He got up and moved to the back seat, sat down on the edge, and then laid down with his head behind the driver's seat. He laid the bottle on the floor within easy reach.

She leaned in and checked his position on the backseat. "Should I buckle you in?"

"What if I have to get out quickly?"

"I just don't want you to roll off and injure yourself more."

"Technically, I didn't injure myself," he explained.

"Comfortable?" she asked, ignoring his comment.

"Almost." She leaned down and kissed him, and Callen held her against him with his free arm for several minutes. When their lips parted, he studied her and said quietly, "I've missed that."

"Me, too."

Callen then settled back on the seat and Anna walked around to the driver's side and got in behind the wheel. When she pulled out onto the road, she knew the next 3-4 hours could be very rough. She moved her rear view mirror to check on her recumbent passenger. "Let me know if you want to stop."

Callen gave her a thumbs up and then closed his eyes and settled down for a very uncomfortable ride.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dimitri ran back to his car and threw his rifle onto the back seat. He'd hit Callen with his first shot, but he knew it hadn't been a kill shot. If it had been, the car would have stopped or crashed. His second shot hit the car and nothing else. He pulled back onto the Carretera Central de Cuba and headed south at high speed. When he was almost thirty miles down the road, he pulled onto the shoulder and watched a few cars pass. None of them were the Bel Air. He knew they must have pulled off the Carretera Central de Cuba somewhere so that Callen's wound could be tended, but where would they get back on the highway? After watching cars for almost thirty minutes, Dimitri was sure they had stayed off the main highway and were traveling on one of the parallel roads. There were more than twenty side roads that entered the Carretera Central de Cuba between Las Tunas and Bayamo, the next major city. Dimitri couldn't watch every one, so he made a decision. He called the embassy's technician and told him to continue monitoring Callen's phone. He needed to verify his location. Dimitri also confirmed the information from his embassy contacts that the Cuban authorities had the southeastern portion of the island well-covered: road blocks at Guantanamo, Caimanera, and Baracoa and extra coast guard patrols between Santiago de Cuba and Masai. That meant the base at Guantanamo and the route to Haiti were being closely watched. But only one extra coast guard patrol boat had been assigned to cover the water passage between Cabo Cruz and Jamaica. So, Dimitri headed to Cabo Cruz.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_I think I mentioned that these chapters were going to take a little longer, but if I didn't-I am now. My apologies. I just don't want to have to go back and "fix" something after it's already been published. Anyway, thanks for sticking with the story and for your comments! As always, every one of them is appreciated!  
_

Sam was still packing the duffle bag when his phone rang.

"Mr. Hanna, have you heard from Mr. Callen yet?"

"Not yet, but I wasn't expecting him to call until late afternoon or early evening. He said the plan was to leave tonight when it's dark."

"I see, however, we all know that plans change or they get changed for us." She paused. "Have you tried calling him?"

"I sent a text, but if he's turned it off his phone, he won't get it until he turns it back on."

"If Dimitri is tracking them through the embassy, it seems likely that Mr. Callen has taken the battery out. But, we were finally able to get Ms. Kolcheck's phone number from the CIA. Mr. Beale will send it to you, and you might try that. It's unlikely that Dimitri has that number since Ms. Kolcheck was given a new cell phone after she had been discharged from the hospital, and the CIA takes the phone security of their assets seriously."

"I'll try that."

"Other than the inability to contact our friends, how is everything else?"

"Everything's ready. I'm heading out now and will wait about 30 miles offshore. That'll put me beyond the contiguous zone." He paused. "And probably smack dab in the middle of the rain, if it materializes."

"Well, we know the weather can be unpredictable—rain can last thirty minutes or an entire day—so let's hope that if it does rain, it will be for a brief period of time and not hours."

"I hope so, but regardless of the weather, we'll get it done."

"Good. Now, Mr. Hanna, be sure that you don't drift into Cuban waters while you're waiting."

Sam smiled, "I have a good anchor, Hetty, and know how to use it."

"Of course you do."

He had continued packing during the conversation, and now he zipped the duffle bag closed. "If they can't get out to me, I'll go in and pick them up in the Zodiak."

"Please be careful, Mr. Hanna. I don't want to lose two agents on this mission—or Ms. Kolcheck."

"Hetty, I promise I'll be careful. I also promise I'll bring them home."

"I know you will, Mr. Hanna. Godspeed." Hetty hung up and Sam checked his cell phone for the text from Eric with Anna's phone number. It was already there. He picked up the satellite phone that was on the bed and entered the number and then tucked the satellite phone into an outside pocket of the duffle bag. By the time he was off the coast of Cuba, Sam was hoping one of them had turned a phone back on because right now the only thing he knew was that Callen had a plan. Callen always had a plan. He didn't always have a good plan—and Sam almost laughed out loud remembering some of them—but, after more than ten years as G's partner, Sam knew he could work with—or around—any plan Callen came up with. It would just be a big help to him if he knew it. Sam checked the room one last time, hefted the duffle bag onto his shoulder, and closed the door firmly behind him as he headed out.

XXXXXXXXXX

Callen continued to lose blood, and even though it was slow, steady drip instead of a massive flow, it worried Anna. Multiple veins or capillaries must have been damaged by the bullet, and although the blood loss wasn't lethal, it wasn't helpful. The road conditions weren't any better. Anna had to drive much slower than she would need to on the main highway, and she checked on Callen often. Most of the time, his eyes were closed, but she could tell he wasn't sleeping. Several times he'd actually lifted up off the seat and almost flopped onto the floor even though she did her best to avoid the potholes and ruts and slow down when she couldn't avoid them. And now the sky was getting dark. If it rained, Anna would have to find some sort of shelter—a tree or a building—because without a windshield, there was no way they could continue in those conditions. She just hoped they could reach Manzanillo before then. That would put them only a little more than an hour out of Cabo Cruz and that much closer to getting off the island.

Callen opened his eyes and looked out the window opposite him. "Are those rain clouds I see?"

"I hope they aren't."

"Where are we?"

"We just passed Rio Cauto." She took a quick glance back and saw that he was looking at her.

"What happens if it rains?"

"We take cover."

"No sign of Dimitri?"

"Nope."

"I feel better already."

When she glanced behind again, she saw that he had closed his eyes again.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Dimitri reached Manzanillo, he began to have second thoughts about his decision to focus on Cabo Cruz. If he was wrong, he would miss his chance to avenge Volfoff's death—for the moment. He wasn't going to stop until he'd exacted retribution, so if he wasn't able to complete his mission during this trip, he was more than willing to make others, even to Los Angeles, if necessary, but with Callen wounded and neither of them armed, now was the perfect opportunity. In fact, once he finished them off, he might even have time to turn his attention back to Lionel before he had to return to Russia.

He didn't stop in Manzanillo, but drove straight through on Highway 4 and headed to Cabo Cruz.

He called the technician again, but there was nothing to report yet. Dimitri didn't worry as he looked up at the gathering clouds. He knew that when the rain came, Callen and Anna would have to stop—the lack of a windshield would force them to take cover somewhere—and then they would very likely have to call their contact again. That's when Dimitri would know for certain if he'd guessed right. He told the technician to be sure and monitor Callen's phone number for the next few hours and call him as soon as he had any information.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam was more than fifty miles from Montego Bay when he felt the first drops. Everything was secured and the satellite phone was safely encased in its waterproof pouch on the helm within reach. He'd had a bite to eat and had packed plenty of nutrition bars and water to last several hours. He also had dry clothes and enough first aid supplies to meet multiple injuries although he hoped those wouldn't be needed. As he steered toward the southwest coast of Cuba, the raindrops increased in number until they formed a veritable sheet within half an hour. He had to reduce his speed slightly due to the choppiness of the water, but he didn't veer from his course. He was going to be ready as soon as he heard from Callen.

XXXXXXXXXX

As the rain began to fall more heavily and threatened to turn from a light shower to a downpour, Anna pulled off the road and parked under a large tree just off the shoulder near a sugar cane field and dilapidated warehouse about three miles north of Las Novillas, the last town before Manzanillo. When the car came to a stop, Callen struggled to sit up.

"Are we in Cabo Cruz already?"

"I wish," Anna replied as she got out from behind the wheel and opened the passenger door behind and leaned in.

"Can I join you?"

The rain began to fall in sheets, and Callen moved over. Anna got in beside him and shut the door. Callen leaned down and grabbed the floor mat, pushing aside the bags, and lifted it up to the window that had been shot out. Anna saw what he was doing and grabbed a tank top and the large hunting knife from her duffle bag. She gently pushed Callen back against the seat so that she could fit in between him and the back of the passenger seat. He held the floor mat up and pushed the end into the window opening while Anna cut off a piece of the tank top and stuffed it in to hold the floor mat in place. The raindrops fell in a deafening deluge on the trunk and the back portion of the roof which were unprotected by the tree canopy but still had their windows intact and splashed against the suspended doormat, but the front third of the roof and the hood received only a light pattering of raindrops through the foliage. This kept the front seat and the dash almost completely dry even without a windshield.

Anna put her tank top and knife away and sat back, careful to not touch Callen's injured shoulder.

"I should check your bandage."

"It's fine," he assured her. He draped his left arm around her shoulders. "Why don't you close your eyes and get some rest? We're not going anywhere in this rain."

She smiled and snuggled closer to him, leaning on him and dropping her head onto his shoulder. Callen gently smoothed her hair and leaned back and closed his eyes. The raindrops beat a rhythm on the roof and in a moment, both of them were fast asleep.

Callen jerked awake because the pounding on the car wasn't the rain. The rain had stopped. Looking past Anna's head that still lay on his shoulder, he saw a man peering in the window. He was older, weather beaten, and wearing a straw hat and a clean, but worn, shirt. When he saw Callen looking at him, he smiled and motioned for Callen to lower the window. Callen carefully leaned over to the handle and rolled the window down a few inches. Before the man spoke, Callen put his finger to his lips and pointed to Anna, still asleep on his shoulder.

The man winked and said quietly in broken English, "Car stuck."

"Stuck?"

"Si, mud."

Callen woke Anna, "Hey, I'm going to check on the car. Wait here." She looked at him with confusion and then turned and saw the smiling man in the window staring at her and shook the sleep out of her system. As Callen opened the door on his side and slid out, Anna slid across the seat to follow him. Callen held up his hand and stopped her. His first step had been into almost three inches of mud. She sat on the edge of the seat and looked out at the rear tire with almost five inches of mud climbing up its side. The man walked around and stood next to Callen. His boots were thick with mud. He looked at the tire and then looked at Callen.

"Stuck."

"Yes, it is."

Anna cupped her chin in her hand and stared at the ground. She wasn't a car person, but even she knew there was no way they were going to be able to drive out of this mess. She looked at Callen, her anxiety obvious on her face. Callen stared at the ground for a few more minutes and then turned to Anna. "Walk?" He turned to the man, "¿A qué distancia de Manazanillo?"

"¿Manzanillo?" the man asked, pleased that Callen spoke Spanish.

"Si."

"Voy a Manzanillo. Puedes cabalgar conmigo," the man replied and pointed to the old pickup sitting a few feet behind them.

"Gracias," Callen said and the old man walked back to his pickup. Callen grabbed his duffle bag. "I think there's less mud on that side," he said as he transferred all the items needed to redress his wound into his duffle bag. Anna slid back across the seat and opened that door. He was right; there were only about two inches of mud on this side. She stepped as far away from the car as she could when she exited and then leaned back in, picked up her duffle bag, and started toward the pickup with Callen who had joined her. She looked down at his shoes.

"Keep those away from me," she said with mock disgust.

"Afraid of a little mud?" he replied and stepped daringly close to her.

When they reached the pickup, the driver motioned for them to put their duffle bags in the bed which was filled with farm equipment and tools, piles of cuttings—maybe sugar cane, bags of fertilizer, and crates of bottles and burlap. They put their bags directly behind the cab. The driver pointed at Callen's shoes and Anna looked at him with an "I told you so" satisfied expression. Callen quickly slipped off his shoes and put them in the truck bed beside some of the cuttings and then climbed in next to Anna who sat in the middle. It was a tight squeeze, but at least they didn't have to walk the fifteen miles to Manzanillo.

XXXXXXXXXX

The truck driver dropped Callen and Anna at the Manzanillo train station as they'd requested. The ride had been uneventful and the old man had asked no questions. Before Anna slid out of the cab, she gave the old man a smile and a quick kiss on the cheek. He beamed, "Viaje seguro, bonita," and drove away after they'd secured their duffle bags and Callen his shoes.

They sat on a bench and Callen checked his watch. The train hadn't arrived yet. While Callen put on his shoes, Anna rummaged through her bag and pulled out her phone. She replaced the battery and hesitated briefly before turning it on. Once it was on, she checked for any text messages, but there were none.

"The text must be on your phone," she said as she quickly turned her phone off.

Callen finished putting on his shoes and took out his phone, replaced the battery, and turned it on. Sure enough, there was a text message: Call Lionel F. He read it a second time. Anna looked puzzled. Why would Miguel tell them to call Lionel? Wasn't Lionel with him? And then Callen got it. On the call screen he began dialing a phone number while Anna watched. In a few moments, he was speaking.

"This is Callen. We should be there within the next two hours." He paused and listened. "If we need to call you again, it will be from this number," and he repeated Anna's phone number. When he'd finished, he paused and then said, "Thank you," and hung up. He turned off his phone removed the battery.

"How did you know the number?"

"All Cuban cell phone numbers have eight numbers and the first number is always 5. Lionel F. is seven letters."

She smiled and then noticed that he winced slightly. "I need to check your bandage."

"After the train leaves," he said quietly and then stood up. "I need to buy a ticket." Anna made as if to come with him, but he put his hand on her shoulder, "No, stay here and save my seat." He walked over to the ticket window and purchased a ticket for himself and got a tag for one piece of luggage. On his way back to the bench, he saw a young street vendor selling caps, so he bought one for himself with the colors of Cuba's flag. He put it on and winked at the vendor. When he got back to the bench, he showed Anna his cap and then put it back on. "I came to Cuba and all I got was a baseball cap."

"I'm not enough?"

He sighed and put his left arm around her and pulled her to him, but she turned her head, feigning hurt feelings. He reached over with his right arm—which hurt like hell—put his hand under her chin and turned her head back to face him. When she saw that he was using his injured arm, she dropped all pretense and kissed him solidly on the mouth. When she pulled away, he smiled.

They settled back on the bench and waited as a small crowd of people began to arrive at the station. Anna wore her straw hat and sunglasses and Callen wore his new cap and sunglasses and made sure his "tattoo" was clearly visible. They were, after all, still fugitives.

XXXXXXXXXX

Dimitri received the technician's call a little before 6:00 pm. Callen's phone had come on line for a brief time in the Manzanillo area, and then it had been turned off and the battery evidently removed. Every bone in his body told Dimitri that he had guessed right: they were headed to Cabo Cruz. He told the technician to contact him as soon as the phone came back online. There was only one road leading into Cabo Cruz, and Dimitri set to work to prepare a reception for Callen and Anna that they would not forget—or survive.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_So, this story is coming to an end (that always makes me a little sad), but this isn't the final chapter. It is, however, the end for someone, and I admit, I don't write really over-the-top scenes-at least, to me, they're not over-the-top-although I enjoy reading them, so his end may not satisfy everyone. but thanks, as always for the comments/reviews. _

The train arrived in Manzanillo late, but it arrived, so that was good. Callen and Anna transferred the essentials into Callen's duffle bag and left the nonessentials in Anna's, to which he'd attached the luggage tag. He then took his phone, inserted his phone battery, turned it on, put it in Anna's duffle bag, and took her bag to the train platform. As the train came to a stop in the station, the waiting passengers crowded around to get the best seats available, and it was easy for Callen to slip Anna's duffle bag onto a waiting baggage cart on the platform. He watched a railroad employee load the duffle bag onto the train along with the other baggage. They waited. In a few minutes, the train pulled away heading to Bayamo, a town in the opposite direction from Cabo Cruz, and from there it would continue north to Havana.

"Now, I need to check your bandage."

"Let's find a car, first."

They left the station and wandered the nearby streets until they found a 1962 Olds Starfire. It was in rough condition, but when Anna hot-wired it, the engine came to life. Callen got in the passenger side as Anna sat up behind the wheel. "Sam would love this car," he said as he checked out the dash and put the duffle bag on the seat between them.

"Should you call him?"

"I probably should," he replied and took out Anna's phone, put in the battery and turned it on. As soon as he saw that the reception was good, he dialed the satellite phone number Hetty had given him.

On the water beyond the Cuban Contiguous Zone, Sam heard faint hum as the phone vibrated and checked the number. He slowed and took the phone out of its waterproof bag.

"So, are you calling to tell me to go back to Jamaica, or are you ready to leave that island?"

"We are definitely ready to leave this island, partner, and I'm calling to tell you that we're about one hour out from Cabo Cruz."

"You aren't in Cabo Cruz yet? What have you been doing? Sightseeing?"

Anna leaned over toward Callen, "He was getting shot."

"Shot? What the hell, G!" Sam said loud enough for Anna to hear.

"It's nothing," he assured Sam, "just a scratch."

When Anna was going to correct him, Callen gave her a look that told her she'd better not, so she stayed focused on the road.

"Can you make it out to me?"

"I don't think that'll be a problem."

"What about Dimitri?"

"Not sure. We haven't seen him. We've sent my phone to Bayamo. Maybe he'll go after it."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then we'll deal with him if we see him again."

There was a slight pause before Sam asked the question he was already sure he knew the answer to, and it wasn't the answer he wanted to hear.

"Either of you armed?"

Callen thought for a micro-second about lying—only to reassure his partner—but he couldn't, so he tried a little misinformation. "We are."

"With?" Sam was not going to be satisfied with that answer.

Anna looked at Callen and said, "You have to tell him."

Callen sighed loud enough for Sam to hear. "Knives." Callen could see Sam roll his eyes and shake his head, and he wanted to change the subject fast. "What about the Cuban coast guard?"

There was a pause and then Callen heard, "You're kidding, right?"

Callen smiled.

"See you in a few, G," Sam said and then hung up. He was glad to hear both of their voices, but not at all happy to hear that Callen had been shot or to hear that they were armed only with knives. He hoped Dimitri was on his way to Bayamo, but Sam had a bad feeling that he wasn't, and he wasn't going to wait almost thirty miles offshore for a distress call. He grabbed his duffle bag and the satellite phone and got the Zodiac ready. He'd meet them on land.

XXXXXXXXXX

The technician called Dimitri and told him Callen's phone was turned on and seemed to be heading away from Manzanillo.

"Toward Cabo Cruz?" Dimitri asked.

"No, away from Cabo Cruz, toward Bayamo," the technician replied with some confusion.

Dimitri stopped his preparations for a moment. "Toward Bayamo?"

"That's what it looks like."

"Call his phone," Dimitri ordered. The technician immediately dialed Callen's number and waited. "Well?" Dimitri asked.

"No answer."

"Is the phone still on?"

"Yes."

Dimitri's eyes narrowed. "It's a ruse. Ignore it. You don't need to track it anymore," he told the technician and returned to his preparations.

XXXXXXXXXX

There was only one road leading into Cabo Cruz, and that worried Callen, but there was no way around it. The topography was uneven and would be dangerous to cross in the dark and in his condition. Besides, their contact had told him that they needed to drive through Cabo Cruz all the way to the end of the highway. From there, they would need to walk almost a mile through marshy land to reach the boat that was hidden in an inlet, out of view of the lighthouse beacon that shone out over the water. The water there was too shallow for the coast guard to navigate, but they might still be seen.

Almost an hour had passed since Callen and Anna had left Manzanillo and they had passed fewer than ten cars on the road, all but one headed in the opposite direction. As they neared the outskirts of the town, one or two buildings shrouded in darkness cropped up along the side of the road. These were not homes and no one sat on the porches and engaged in neighborly conversations. These were empty warehouses or storage facilities and strangely foreboding. Suddenly, Anna slowed. Up ahead in the road, steel drums were scattered across the highway making it impassable. A warehouse-type building loomed up in the dark on the left. On their right, the landscape was in almost total darkness, illumined only by the moonlight and the starlight that cast a ghostly glow over everything. A short distance beyond that toward the coast they saw town buildings silhouetted against the flickering street lights. The drums could have rolled into the street from the building on their own, but the hair on Callen's neck was on end and every sense was alert. Something was wrong. He knew it. He reached into the duffle bag and took out his knife. Anna stopped the car a few feet from the drums. She looked at Callen. He stared into the darkness ahead and on each side of the road. She waited and without a word reached into the bag and took out her knife.

"We can't sit here all night, Callen."

"Turn off the headlights," he told her, and she immediately turned them off.

She looked out but saw nothing. "Dimitri?"

"Maybe," he replied as he reached up and smashed the interior light, so that it wouldn't illumine the interior when they opened a door. "We need to walk the rest of the way." Anna didn't argue, but put the car in neutral and set the parking brake.

She hadn't taken her hands off the wheel before the first bullet shattered the window beside her and glass shards flew across the car's interior. And then another. And then another. They were almost lying on the seat as Callen opened his door and slid out pulling Anna after him with his left hand. She grabbed the phone on the seat as she landed next to him on the ground, crouched beside the car. They were out of the line of fire, but the shots kept coming. They needed to move and the direction they needed to go was away from the car and into the landscape. Anna pocketed the phone and then they both strapped their knives to their thighs and moved away from the car as quickly as they could while staying crouched. Callen was leading the way, about twenty feet away from the car, when he felt the first 2-inch fishing hook enter his right arm. The pain caused him to grunt involuntarily, and he heard the hum of the bullet as it passed near his head. He swerved quickly and the second fishing hook entered his left thigh. Anna stopped behind him as he pulled out his knife with his left hand. Anna didn't understand what was happening, and then she saw a glint of metal in Callen's thigh.

"Callen?"

"Fish hooks," he said as he grabbed his knife with his left hand and sliced through the strands of almost invisible longline Dimitri had stretched across the side of the road to block their escape. Anna had her knife out and cut as they heard the sound of someone dropping to the ground followed by running footsteps approaching. After cutting through the line, Callen cut the line attached to the hook in his thigh while Anna cut the line attached to the hook in his right arm. Callen wanted to close up the opening they'd cut—to make it more difficult for Dimitri—but there wasn't time. With luck, Dimitri wouldn't know exactly where they'd cut through the line and have to cut his own path or go around. That would give them a little time. Callen pushed Anna through the opening and then followed her.

They ran bent at the waist to keep their profiles low, but Callen started to limp. Even in the faint light, Anna could see that his pant leg was getting darker as the blood from the hook wound flowed down. Evidently Dimitri couldn't see them clearly even though he knew their general direction, but he was gaining ground. After a few hundred yards, Callen made a shift to his left, toward the town and the coast. They needed to get to the coast. And then Callen hit a depression in the ground and fell onto his injured shoulder and arm. The fishhook dug deeper into his arm. He bit his lip, but a groan escaped and cracked the silence. They heard Dimitri stop momentarily and then the footsteps began again, toward them and getting closer.

Anna helped Callen to his feet and they ran ahead toward the town. Callen knew once they got closer to the town, the lights would illumine them and Dimitri would have a better chance of hitting them.

"We need to separate," he told her.

"No."

"We'll have a better chance if we split up."

"You're hurt."

"A flesh wound."

They reached the outskirts of the buildings that lined the only road in town. There was only one row of buildings on either side of the street because the town was so small, houses interspersed with local businesses.

He grabbed her shoulder with his good arm, "You go on the other side and I'll stay on this side. Stay close to the buildings and we'll meet at the end of the road."

"Callen . . ."

"If I'm not there, call Sam and go on to the skiff. He'll come get you."

"I'm not leaving you."

"I didn't say you were. Besides, Sam wouldn't let you on the boat without me," he said as he kissed her, and then he gave her a gentle shove. "Go."

Anna crossed the street without a sound and disappeared behind the buildings. Callen watched her, and then started down the street behind the buildings.

XXXXXXXXXX

Even though it wasn't very late, most people remained in their homes. A small café on Anna's side of the street was open, but people were seated inside. She heard music faintly, but saw no one. As she peered around the corner of the next building, Anna thought she caught a glimpse of Callen across the street as he mirrored her passage to the end of the street. He was limping badly, and she was sure the pain in his arm was intense. They needed to get to Sam's boat soon.

The sound of a scuff in front of her jarred her out of her thoughts and she turned her head to see Dimitri standing a few feet in front of her, his rifle carried easily in his hands. She stopped.

"I like the hair," he said as his finger rested on the trigger.

"I was tired of having all the fun."

It took him a moment to understand, and when he did he almost smiled. He admired her composure.

"Volkoff told me all about your father," he continued.

"Volkoff didn't know my father."

He raised the rifle.

"Sorry about Katya."

"No, you're not," Anna said and her voice was hard, venomous. "You like killing women."

Dimitri paused for a moment and almost smiled. He appreciated her grasp of his character. "I like many things about women, and you're right, killing them is one of the things I like most. Maybe it's the way they beg me not to. I don't know. I've never really thought about it." He paused, "You and Agent Callen have been a real challenge, more of a challenge than I anticipated. But." he said with some disdain, "not more of a challenge than I could handle."

"We're not dead yet," Callen said quietly.

Neither Anna nor Dimitri had seen or heard Callen approach. Dimitri turned and saw Callen standing about fifteen feet behind him. He moved so that he stood at a slight angle to both Anna and Callen. That allowed him to keep both in his sight. He studied Callen: Callen leaned to one side and his right arm hung useless. His left pant leg was darker because of the blood. Dimitri almost laughed. He couldn't believe this was the agent who'd eluded him for more than a day. Taking Callen out in his condition would be easy and, more than that, satisfying because he had an audience. He realized that killing Callen in front of Anna would be emotionally devastating for her, and he would enjoy killing her later when he got her back to Russia—just as he had Katya. Dimitri really did like killing women, but he also enjoyed killing men—and causing them pain. Callen deserved to die a painful death. They both did. After all, they'd left Volkoff to die a horrible death, so it seemed only fitting that they suffer the same.

He took a few steps toward Callen. Callen's left arm that hung motionless at his side suddenly whipped forward. Dimitri saw the glint of metal only seconds before the knife blade penetrated his heart. He fired the rifle harmlessly into the ground, and as he fell to his knees, Anna's knife struck him between the shoulder blades. As she ran past the dead man to Callen, she grabbed her knife out of his back.

Callen looked at her with an unsteady smirk, "You know he was already dead."

"Old habit," she shrugged as she replaced her knife in its sheath.

"Just like Arkady," he said as she draped his left arm over her shoulder and they made their way into the darkness past the edge of the buildings. Behind them they heard the sound of people opening their doors, questions in Spanish, and the footsteps of people slowly making their way outside to investigate the origin of the gunshot.

"Someone's going to call the policia," Anna said as she snuck a look behind but saw that no one had yet found Dimitri's body.

"By the time they arrive, we should be on our way to Jamaica," Callen said and the weariness in his voice caused Anna to scrutinize his condition. He was almost dragging his left leg and his right arm just hung limply. The fish hook where he'd fallen on it was bruised and bleeding and almost completely beneath the epidermis. Anna didn't know if he would make it to the coast before the policia arrived. When they were well out of range of the town, Anna stopped.

"We can't stop, Anna."

"I'm calling Sam."

"I can make it."

She pulled away from him and stared at him, "Go ahead then."

He sighed. He knew when arguing was futile. "Call Sam."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

_My apologies for the delay. Work got suddenly crazy and this was a b***h to write. It's not the final chapter, but it's close, and I am STILL going to try and get this story completed before the S11 premiere this Sunday (it's going to be a long weekend. lol). As always, thanks to everyone for reading and especially your comments/reviews. Readers are the reason we all put our work out there! ;-)_

Sam was not yet in Cuban territorial waters when the satellite phone buzzed. He answered it immediately and heard Anna's voice.

"Sam."

"Anna, give me a sit rep."

"Dimitri's dead, but we need help."

"Has G been shot again?"

"No, he's been fish hooked."

"Fish hooked?"

"Yes, by two large fish hooks in a trap set by Dimitri. One in his arm and one in his leg." She paused. "It's bad, Sam."

"How far are you from the shore?"

"I don't know."

"Sam," Callen took the phone, "we're probably two miles from the pick-up site, but we can't travel by the road anymore."

"Can you make it there on your own?"

"Maybe, but if the policia give chase—maybe not."

Sam could tell that Callen had lost more blood. His voice was weaker and the fish hooks just made a bad situation worse. Sam just hoped the fish hooks weren't rusty. If they were, there was a good chance Callen could contract tetanus. Sam didn't have any TIG (human tetanus immune globulin), and he hoped Callen had kept current with his tetanus booster, but Sam also knew Callen had let some things slip after Nikita's return and Anna's arrest. He needed to reach them instead of waiting for them to meet him. "Leave your phone on, G. I'm going to have Eric track your phone and relay your position to me. Don't turn your phone off. And keep moving."

"Got it, Dad. We won't turn the phone off, and we'll keep moving." And with that, Sam and Callen both hung up. Callen handed the phone back to Anna to put in her pocket, and Sam called Eric immediately and told him to start tracking Anna's phone and send him the coordinates at 5 minute intervals.

XXXXXXXXXX

Anna helped Callen to his feet and they started off away from the town. They were sure they were going in the right direction, even though they couldn't use the small flashlight Callen had brought because of the possibility of it being seen by town residents. Traveling over the uneven terrain slowed them down, as did Callen's limp which was growing worse, but both of them knew that their only chance of escape was Sam, so they pushed on with as much speed as they could. Behind them, they heard the first shout as someone found Dimitri's body, and then more shouts filled the air behind them, and they heard the call for the police and a search party. Now, it was even more imperative that they reached the shore and that Sam found them.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Zodiac cut through the ocean waves silently while Sam kept watch with his night vision goggles. One Cuban coast guard boat had passed through the area about ten minutes earlier—Sam had seen the boat's stern as it headed northeast up the coast to the Windward Passage. That meant that another one would probably be heading his way within the next thirty minutes. He needed to reach the shore and find Callen and Anna before that second boat arrived.

Sam picked up the satellite phone. "Eric, you still tracking Anna's phone? You haven't sent me an update on their location."

"They weren't moving, Sam, but they're moving again now."

"What do you mean they weren't moving?"

"I mean," Eric said with a shrug of his shoulders, "they were in the same location for several minutes."

That was not good news. "Okay, Eric, just keep me updated—and that means even when they aren't moving."

Eric replied with quiet professionalism, "Of course, Sam."

Now that Sam had cleared up what he wanted from Eric, he threw the throttle and pushed the engine to its maximum speed. With no coast guard vessel in sight, the extra noise wasn't going to attract attention, and Sam needed to reach the shore now.

XXXXXXXXXX

Callen and Anna were on the move again. They had stopped briefly when two men had walked past them in the dark on their way to check on the boats in the marina. One of them carried a rifle, the other a flashlight, but neither looked very anxious to confront whoever had killed Dimitri. They were family men who simply wanted to keep their families and their property safe. They weren't the policia.

"It'll take the police almost an hour to get here," Anna said as they continued moving toward the rendezvous point.

"But how long will it take the coast guard once they've been alerted? If you and I get caught, we get caught. But we can't let Sam get caught."

"You're right," Anna replied and the urgency could be heard in her voice.

The town's people seemed content to leave the tracking of Dimitri's killers to the policia because neither Anna nor Callen heard or saw any signs of pursuit. That wasn't surprising. Dimitri was a stranger and none of the town's residents had been harmed or seemed to be in danger, and none of their property—including the boats—had been damaged or stolen. The reason for Dimitri's death must have been personal, and it didn't involve any of them. That was a job for the policia, so after a short time, Callen and Anna were alone again as they headed to the sea.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Sam, Callen and Anna are approximately one-half mile from your current location. They are moving in a northwesterly direction. Their current coordinates are 19̊54" north and 77̊51" west."

Sam pulled out his GPS receiver and entered the coordinates Eric gave him and then set the Zodiac in that direction. "Thanks, Eric," Sam said. In about twenty minutes, he jumped out of the Zodiak, hauled it up onto the beach between some large rocks, and threw some seaweed across it. He crouched down behind the rocks and called Anna, who answered after three rings.

"We're still moving. Sam."

"I know. Stop if you can."

"Stop?"

"Yea. It'll be easier for me to find you if you stop."

"You're here?"

"Not yet," Sam reminded her and realized Anna would never have asked that question if she wasn't dead tired. He hoped they could stop and wait for him.

"We'll stop, Sam."

"Good. Leave your phone on."

"Hurry. The battery's almost dead," Anna said and her voice betrayed her anxiety.

"I will," Sam promised, and as soon as he hung up with Anna, he called Ops. Sam spoke quietly but quickly, "Eric, give me their latest coordinates and hurry. Their battery's almost dead." As Eric relayed the information to Sam, he entered it into the GPS receiver, looked at the distance, flipped down his night vision goggles, and headed off at a sprint. According to the coordinates, Callen and Anna were approximately 910 yards ahead and slightly to the north.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Are we stopping?" Callen asked as Anna put the phone down on the ground.

"Yes," Anna replied and then came over to him to offer him help sitting down, but as she expected, he waved her off and lowered himself awkwardly to the ground, flinching slightly as his leg gave way and he landed with more force than was comfortable.

"So, Sam's finally arrived?"

"He's on his way," she said as she checked the surrounding area once more for signs of anyone searching. She saw no one. That made her relax a little, but then she moved closer to Callen and saw the state of his wounds and was worried again. His bullet wound was bleeding again and the dressing needed to be changed, but they had nothing but the clothes they wore and her knife. His arm was still bleeding and the area around the fish hook was swollen and tender to the touch, and the fish hook itself had almost completely disappeared under his skin. And while the blood on his leg had dried, the fish hook in his thigh was still visible and firmly fixed.

Callen slowly let himself down onto his back and glanced up at the galaxy of stars above them. He looked over at Anna. She was sitting, alert and watching for Sam or anyone who might pose a threat. He reached out with his left hand and touched her leg.

"If I hadn't killed a man and wasn't injured, and we weren't on the run from Cuban authorities, this would be a romantic evening, don't you think?"

"Absolutely. You know how to show a girl a good time," she said with a smile and more than a hint of sarcasm.

"Nice to know I haven't lost my touch," he replied with a satisfied smirk and then closed his eyes to wait for Sam. "Be sure and let me know if you see any Cubans coming our way. I'll distract them so you can escape."

She sighed. As far as Anna could tell, they were completely alone except for the mass of mosquitoes that suddenly began swarming them. Anna attracted a platoon, but Callen—with his bloody clothes—attracted a battalion. Clothing was no obstacle to the blood-sucking raiders, and in a minute, Callen was trying—unsuccessfully—to protect those places on his body attracting the most mosquitoes which also happened to be the most bloody because of his injuries. He was losing the battle and getting more exasperated and exhausted as the minutes dragged on. They were in a marshy area, so Anna used some of the mud to help relieve the itching, but she couldn't put mud on Callen's wounds and risk contamination. He was being tormented and so she did what she could; she carefully lay on top of him to shield as much of his body as she could with her own being careful to avoid his injuries. And that was how Sam found them when he arrived within the next ten minutes.

"Really? You couldn't wait?" he said as he knelt down next to them.

Anna lifted her head slightly and turned to him. "I didn't have any mosquito repellant."

Sam shook his head, "Now, that is original, Anna."

"And actually quite effective," Callen stated as Anna gently rolled off and kneeled next to Sam.

Sam conducted a quick examination of Callen's wounds as his partner struggled to sit up. He saw that the dressing over his bullet wound needed to be changed and the fish hooks really were fish hooks—and they were big and in deep, especially the one in his arm. And from the looks of them, they were old and rusty. There was no way they were coming out without surgery because there was a good chance they would break off if Sam tried to remove them.

"So, are we leaving, or did you want to see how much more blood I'll lose to these damn mosquitoes?"

"I never thought you'd be bothered by a few mosquitoes, G."

"I'm not bothered. My blood is being drained by these little vampires."

"Okay, okay. Let's go. Anna, you good?"

"Yes," she said as she stood up.

Sam helped Callen to his feet. "G, you can't move as fast as we need to, so I need to carry you."

"Oh, hell, no," G protested.

Sam didn't have time to argue so he didn't. He bent down, grabbed Callen by his left arm and left leg before Callen had time to react and then rose up with his partner across his back and shoulders in a fireman's lift. Sam turned to Anna, "Let's go."

They moved off toward the shore and the waiting Zodiac as the policia finally arrived in the town where they were shown the body of Dimitri, conducted a basic forensic examination of the body and the surrounding area, and drove to the end of the only street in town and then started their pursuit on foot to find those responsible.

XXXXXXXXXX

When they reached the Zodiac, Sam set Callen down on the sand and then helped him into the boat first, making sure that he had plenty of room on the boat's bottom to stretch out his leg and that he was in the bow. Anna climbed in after Callen, and Sam directed her to a space also in the bow of the boat. Sam wanted the weight distributed as evenly as possible, so Anna and Callen in the bow would counter the weight of Sam and the engine in the stern, and the boat was balanced. Sam silently shoved off from the beach and motioned Anna to get down so that the top of her head was the same height as the sides of the boat. Behind them on the shore, they heard the faint sound of voices and saw the distant flicker of flashlights as the policia made rapid progress toward the shoreline. Sam started the engine and ran it at low speed so that the sound was not noticeable. As the boat itself was black, Sam was dressed in black, and Anna's hair was still dark, it would be difficult for those on shore to identify them clearly, especially with only a flashlight as their source of illumination. Sam was more concerned about the arrival of the coast guard boats which he knew were heading their way.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_So, I will likely NOT get this story finished by tomorrow (apologies all around), but at least I got them this far. lol Please stay tune for the remaining chapters. ;-) As always, your comments/reviews are really appreciated!  
_

They were more than five miles from shore when Sam saw the lights of the coast guard vessel in the distance on a collision course with them. He had pushed the engine to its maximum speed, but now he throttled back slightly. He didn't think the Zodiac had been spotted yet, but he knew it might have shown up on their radar. It was only a matter of time before the vessel's light lit up the Zodiac or its wake, and when it did, Sam knew that the coast guard would come for them—fast. There was no point in trying to avoid them or outrun them because there was at least one more vessel patrolling the waters and more would undoubtedly come as soon as they were spotted. What they needed was a diversion that would both slow the coast guard vessel down and give them time to escape.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Mr. Beale," Hetty's voice startled Eric as he waited for word from Sam. He turned quickly as she continued, "Have you heard anything more from Mr. Hanna?"

"Nothing more, Hetty. The last message I received from him was that he had recovered the packages and they were on their way to the destination."

"And have you been able to track him?"

Eric shook his head, "No. He's turned the phone off." When Hetty said nothing in response, he looked at Nell and then turned to Hetty. "Do you want me to try and turn it on?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Beale. Mr. Hanna will call us with an update as soon as he can. Let me know as soon as you know anything—and that includes communication from our Cuban friends." And with that directive, Hetty turned and left Ops as quietly as she had entered.

Eric turned to Nell, a quizzical expression on his face. "Does she expect me to be able to monitor Cuban communications?"

Nell squinted and made a face, "You can't, can you?"

"No."

"Well, then, Eric," she said with a casual shrug, "she doesn't." And she gave him a supportive pat.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam needed to reach the coast guard vessel before it got too close. He turned off the Zodiac engine and got his gear ready, but he checked on Callen and Anna first. Anna was wide awake, watching, but Callen was unconscious.

"How is he?" Sam asked quietly.

"I think he's sleeping," Anna replied.

"Good. Let him."

She looked at Sam, "What are you doing?"

He pointed off to the east. "See that light?" Anna looked and saw the pinprick of light and turned back to Sam. He continued, "That's probably a coast guard vessel. We need a diversion and we need to slow it down."

"What can I do?"

"Just what you're doing now—take care of Callen and don't let him leave the boat if he wakes up. I've got this." He paused and spoke to Anna in a low voice, "If I'm not back in thirty minutes, I want you to take off and stay on this course."

"Absolutely not. Callen would never forgive me, Kam and Aiden would never forgive me, and I would never forgive myself."

"Okay, then."

Anna watched Sam strip down to his shorts and gather a few things and stuff them in his dive belt before he put on his fins, tank, and mask and disappeared into the black water that stretched for miles. Anna estimated that the coast guard vessel was at least a mile, maybe a mile and a half, away, and it didn't seem to be coming their way with any speed, but since it was conducting a search, she didn't imagine it would be moving very fast. Anna had no idea what Sam was going to do, but whatever it was, she was sure it would work, and if it didn't . . . she glanced down at Callen and smiled. He looked peaceful, probably because there were no mosquitoes.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sam broke the water's surface about 100 yards in front of the coast guard vessel. It was traveling at a speed that would make it easy for him to board, but that wasn't his plan. He treaded water keeping only his eyes above the surface and with his hands got things ready. As the vessel passed within one foot of him, Sam reached out and silently slapped the limpet mine to the hull midships just below the water line and then dropped down and away from the hull to avoid the propellers. He circled away from the boat and headed back toward the Zodiac and was about fifty yards ahead when the mine exploded, blowing a huge hole in the hull. The boat immediately began to take on water and all searching operations stopped as the men on board initiated efforts to save the vessel. Sam never broke the surface but felt the compression of the blast. He continued to the Zodiac where Callen, awakened by the explosion, struggled to sit up while Anna scoured the water for Sam. She reached out and put a hand on Callen's shoulder.

"What's happening? Where's Sam?"

"He's creating a diversion, but he'll be back."

He looked out into the darkness and saw the coast guard vessel outlined against the night. "His diversion was to sink a Cuban boat?"

In the distance behind the listing coast guard vessel, they saw another light, farther away but moving rapidly in their direction.

They waited in silence as they saw the tiny silhouettes of the men on the damaged vessel jump overboard to be picked up by the approaching vessel. The men in the water moved toward the shore as their own vessel continued to sink. It seemed as though an hour had passed—even though it had been only twenty minutes—when Sam suddenly emerged beside the Zodiac, deftly rolled into it, quickly removed his mask, brought the engine to life, and then headed the Zodiac away from the island and the current rescue operation to the boat anchored beyond Cuban territorial waters. Anna sighed and her body relaxed while Callen propped himself up so he could look at his partner.

"I bet that brought back some good memories."

Sam couldn't help but smile. "I have to admit it did, G. I haven't used a limpet mine in a long time."

"A limpet mine? Where the hell did you get that, and why the hell didn't it destroy that boat?"

"Seriously, G?" Sam asked in mock disbelief. "There isn't a navy in the world that doesn't have limpet mines. But," he shrugged, "I brought mine from home because some navies don't like to share."

"Especially if you're using them to sink the boats of another country," Callen replied as he fell back against the boat and closed his eyes.

Sam nodded in agreement and continued, "And I don't just know how to disarm bombs, I also know how to make or modify them. My goal wasn't to kill, just disrupt and give us some time."

"Nice job, partner." Callen said with his eyes still closed and gave Sam a thumbs up. As the boat's speed increased, the ride became rougher. "Are you going to be making any more diversions before we reach the _other _boat and get to shore?"

"I don't plan to. Why?" Sam asked.

"Because," Callen said, the discomfort evident in his voice, "I need to get these fish hooks taken out. They're a real pain."

XXXXXXXXXX

They were out of Cuban territorial waters in less than thirty minutes without any other pursuit, and they reached the anchored boat in another ten. Sam pulled up alongside and secured the Zodiac and then climbed aboard. Anna helped Callen stand up and walked him over to the ladder where Sam stood waiting to haul his partner up. Sam dropped a rope down to Callen.

"Tie this around your waist so I can help you climb up."

Callen pushed the rope aside. "I can get up on my own, Dad."

"Either you tie that rope around your waist or I will, G. I'm not risking my life to get you this close to home to have you fall off this ladder and crack your head." He looked at Anna, "Anna, tie that rope around G."

Anna pushed in front of Callen and blocked the ladder. "If I can push you aside, Callen, you should probably do as Sam asks." She held out the rope.

Callen sighed so loud that both heard him clearly. He grabbed the rope and tried to tie it around his waist, but had trouble because of his injuries. Looking up at Sam, he admitted he was wrong and held the end of the rope out for Anna to finish tying it around him. Once the rope was securely tied around him, Anna planted a quick kiss on his cheek as Sam began hauling his partner up the ladder. Callen found that he could place almost no weight on his left leg and the pain in his right arm and shoulder almost made him blackout. By the time Sam hauled him over the rail, Callen was exhausted.

Sam turned to Anna, "Do you need any help, Anna?"

"No. Sam," she replied and looked around the Zodiac and then back to Sam. "What do you need me to do?"

"Bring the tow line up with you," and he pointed to the heavy line tied to the bow.

Anna grabbed the line and then holding it firmly in one hand, quickly climbed the ladder and scrambled over the rail. Callen had gotten up and was leaning against the helm.

"You take care of Callen," Sam said, "while I tie up the Zodiac."

Anna slipped under Callen's right arm and helped lift him and together they walked to the seats in the rear where he could lie down. Sam, meanwhile, pulled the Zodiac to the boat's stern and tied the bow line securely to the two cleats on the stern. The line was slack, and he turned to Anna who had helped Callen get comfortable.

"I'm going to start off slow. Watch the tow line and make sure that it doesn't get tangled in anything, especially when I make the turn. Once I've made the turn and the line is taut, let me know, and I'll increase speed."

"Got it, Sam."

Sam went back to the helm and started the motor. He moved ahead slowly and Anna stood watch. He started his slow, gradual turn, and after coming back around to the heading for Jamaica, he increased the speed gradually. When the line between the two boats became taut and the line to the Zodiac was entirely out of the water, Anna let Sam know. He pushed the motor to the maximum speed he could with the tow, and then he set the autopilot function and pulled out the satellite phone. It only rang twice.

"Yes, Mr. Hanna?"

"We're good, Hetty. We'll be in Montego Bay in a few hours."

"Very good."

"G needs a doctor."

"I'll have a helicopter waiting."

"Tell them to bring some TIG."

There was a brief silence on the other end before Hetty spoke again. "Understood, Mr. Hanna. Godspeed." And then the line went dead.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

_As always, thanks so much for the comments/reviews; I really love hearing what readers think. This is not yet the end, but it's getting closer! lol _

In a little over three hours, the lights of Montego Bay were growing brighter as the boat approached closer and closer. When they were less than a half mile from shore, Sam dropped the engine speed and prepared what they needed to take with them. Anna, who'd been sitting in the stern with Callen, came forward to see what was going on.

"Are we coming into the harbor?"

"Not in the harbor," Sam said as he grabbed both of the duffle bags he'd packed and set them down midships. He went back to the helm and slowed the boat even more as they approached the shore. To the left and to the right of them, there were a few lights visible, but directly ahead, the shore was dark. Anna could make out the faint outline of a building as they approached. When they were about 500 yards off shore, Sam cut the engine and dropped anchor.

"We're stopping here?" Anna asked as she followed Sam to the stern.

"Yes."

Once he reached the stern, Sam grabbed the tow line and slowly pulled the Zodiac forward to the boat. He untied the bow line from the cleats and pulled the Zodiac alongside stopping midships. He was careful to do this as quietly as he could because Callen was still asleep, slumped back on the seat, his head hanging over his left shoulder. Sam attached the bow line of the Zodiac to the boat quickly and lowered the bags into the Zodiac. He turned to Anna standing beside him, "Do you need help with Callen?"

"No," she said and walked back to wake him and bring him forward.

Sam grabbed a rag. "Anna," he called, "make sure there's no blood and then throw it overboard." She caught the rag he tossed and continued to Callen.

Sam was waiting as Callen and Anna approached. Sam had lowered the ladder and held the rope out to Callen who didn't argue but wrapped it around his waist and let Anna tie the knot. Anna went down the ladder first so that she could help him when he reached the Zodiac. Callen leaned on Sam slightly as he stepped over the rail and onto the ladder, wincing as his left leg hit the rail when he dragged it over. Sam secured the rope and let it out slowly as Callen made his way down the side, finally stepping off the ladder and into the arms of Anna who helped him to the bow of the Zodiac. Sam took one last look around the boat to make sure that no evidence of who had been on the boat remained. Satisfied that there was no evidence that could be traced back to them, Sam climbed down into the Zodiac, undid the bow line, settled behind the helm, started the engine, and headed toward shore. Ahead of them loomed a large building that was completely dark. There was no movement. Anna and Callen strained to see what lay ahead, but Sam steered the Zodiac toward the structure with assurance. When they were almost at the shore, they could see the lettering; it was the name of a hotel that had closed within the last year.

"I hope you didn't book us a room," Callen said from the stern.

Sam laughed, "Don't worry, G, I didn't." He paused, "If Hetty's come through, we'll be in L.A. by tomorrow morning."

"You mean it isn't tomorrow morning yet?"

Sam checked his watch. "You're right." He shrugged, "That means you'll be in L.A. later today."

As they reached the beach, Sam jumped out and hauled the Zodiac onto the sand and Anna got out to help him. When it was safely beached, she walked over and spoke to him quietly, "What about me, Sam? I can't go back to L.A."

"If Anna's not going, I'm not going," Callen said from the Zodiac.

Sam shook his head and smiled at Anna, "His hearing is almost as good as Hetty's." He went back and grabbed the bags out of the Zodiac and dropped them at Anna's feet, then went back to help Callen—who was now standing up and moving slowly toward the side of the boat—out. Once Callen was on the beach, Sam helped him over to Anna and then helped lower him to the sand. "Anna, you're coming back with us. Hetty said she'd 'taken care of things.' Now," he put up his hands, "I don't know what that means, exactly, but I was told that we were not leaving without you, so if you don't get on the helicopter, none of us are getting on the helicopter."

"Well, where IS the helicopter?" Callen asked from his seat on the ground.

"It's where you usually find a helicopter—at the airport."

A loud moan escaped Callen's lips. "I have to walk more?"

Anna walked over to him and helped him to his feet while Sam picked up the bags.

"Only to the truck, G," Sam replied as he headed toward a dark form underneath a tree in the distance.

"Oh, good," Callen sighed as he and Anna followed Sam at a much slower pace. Once Sam reached the truck, he tossed the duffle bags in the bed and then turned around and headed back to the beach.

"Aren't you driving?" Callen asked as Sam jogged past him.

"Yep, but I'm bringing the Zodiac with us."

As Callen and Anna continued to the truck, Callen said quietly, "I really wouldn't have left without you."

She stopped and turned his face to her and kissed him long and hard. "You would have wasted your trip if you had."

"This would have been the worst vacation ever," he said in agreement and returned her kiss.

When they reached the truck, Anna helped Callen into the passenger seat and then went to the driver's side, got in, and slid across the seat so that she would be sitting between Callen and Sam. They'd just gotten settled when they heard the thunk of the Zodiac as Sam put it in the truck bed. He opened the driver side door and slid in next to Anna, reached under the dashboard and rummaged around until he felt the key, brought it out, and started the truck. He pulled out of the abandoned hotel grounds and onto the nearest street. They could see the airport runway lights from the road and the lights of several planes on the ground waiting to depart.

"I hope the helo has already landed," Callen said.

"You and me both," Sam chimed in, "because I am ready for some shut eye."

There was a pause as they waited for Anna to join the conversation. Callen turned his head to his left and smiled. Anna, her head bowed, her chin almost on her chest, was fast asleep. Sam snuck a peak and shook his head, "I'm not surprised."

They continued to the airport in silence, and when they arrived, Sam bypassed the terminals and headed toward the hangar area. When they reached the gate, they were stopped. The guard stepped out and Sam spoke a few words to him. The guard stepped back inside and checked a sheet of paper on a clipboard. He then opened the gate and waved Sam and the truck through.

"So far, Hetty's come through," Sam said as he drove through the gate and headed toward a hangar. As he passed one hangar, a helicopter sitting outside a hangar further ahead was visible. "It looks like Hetty's come through all around."

"Never doubted it," Callen said quietly.

Sam pulled the truck up to the hangar and two men approached. He stepped out and met them while Callen woke Anna and then struggled out of the passenger side. Anna slid out the driver's side and walked around to help Callen out. The men were at the truck lifting out the Zodiac and the duffle bags, while Sam came over to help Callen, and all five of them headed to the helicopter.

The two men climbed into the helo first and secured the bags and the Zodiac. One of the men came back to the door and helped Callen through the door, followed by Anna. Sam climbed in last and shut the door behind him and secured it. The other man had prepared the stretcher for Callen.

When Callen saw it, he hesitated, "I'm good sitting like everyone else."

"No, you're not, G. I don't want to have to make you lie down."

Callen sighed and turned to the man by the stretcher, "Meet my partner. He's not kidding."

The man looked amused as he helped Callen to the stretcher, "I didn't think he was."

Callen awkwardly laid down on the stretcher and the man belted him in. Everyone then took a seat and settled back. As the helo's rotors kicked in, the man next to Callen hooked him up to an IV and got to work cleaning and redressing his bullet wound. He checked the hooks, but after cleaning the surrounding area, decided it would be best to leave those to be removed by a doctor. He then took out a syringe and a vial. Callen felt panic setting in, and Sam moved next to him.

"G, when did you have your last tetanus booster?"

"Tetanus booster?"

"Yea, a booster shot."

"You know I hate needles."

Sam looked at the man and sighed. The man filled the syringe with the liquid in the vial and then prepared to inject Callen.

"Seriously?"

"G," Sam stated pointing at the syringe, "this is TIG. It's a treatment for tetanus. You have two dirty fish hooks in you and probably haven't had a booster shot in years. Let the man give you the shot."

Callen's eyes shifted from Sam to the man to the syringe and back and then finally rested on the syringe. "Alright," he mumbled grudgingly.

The man injected some of the TIG first near the fish hook in Callen's arm and then near the fish hook in his leg. He then injected the remaining TIG into Callen's left arm muscle while Callen kept his eyes fixed on Sam. Sam had been given the "glare" by Callen before, and he just smiled in response. When the man finally put the syringe away, Callen closed his eyes and relaxed.

"See," Sam said, "that wasn't so bad." He then went back and took a seat next to Anna who looked exhausted but relieved.

"I always thought trips to tropical islands were supposed to be relaxing," he said with a wink.

"Sometimes, I guess," she replied, "the relaxing part is when you leave."

They leaned back, closed their eyes, and listened to the rhythm of the blades.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

_Sometimes I wish work didn't get in the way of writing, but there it is. Anyway, this story is rapidly coming to an end-but not in this chapter. Thanks for the reviews/comments! It's great to get them and see what I might be doing well AND where I can do better. ;-)_

After they'd been airborne about 20 minutes, Callen opened his eyes and turned to the man sitting next to him.

"Where're we headed?"

"Gitmo."

"What?" Callen's voice carried through the interior and both Anna and Sam opened their eyes and looked in his direction. Callen struggled to sit up, but forgot he was belted in. He managed to tilt and turn his head and looked at Sam. "Did you know we're going back to Cuba?"

Anna looked from Callen to Sam who grinned, "Yea, I knew. It's Gitmo, G. That's American soil that just happens to be in Cuba." Anna smiled, leaned back, and closed her eyes.

The man next to Callen spoke directly to him, "There's a flight to Miramar leaving Gitmo at 0800 this morning."

Callen included a caveat before leaning back and stared at the ceiling of the helo, "Just don't drift into Cuban airspace or crash land outside of Gitmo."

"We'll do our best," the man replied with complete seriousness and then looked at Sam who smiled, nodded, and grabbed some shuteye for the remainder of the flight.

In less than an hour the helo landed at Gitmo. It was almost 7 am now, so there wasn't much time for the base doctor to check Callen. The two men carried Callen from the helo to the Hercules aircraft waiting to take off and helped get him onto the stretcher waiting for him inside. The stretcher in the Hercules was more elaborate with thicker padding and an adjustable backrest and leg rests. While the two men were setting up his IV, the base doctor arrived to give Callen a quick check-up. When he saw the fish hooks, his face reflected amazement.

"I got the note, but to be honest, I didn't quite believe it. Were you diving?"

"Running."

"On land?"

"Yea."

"And you ran into fish hooks?"

"Yea."

The doctor shook his head. "In all my years on a naval base—as a doctor—I have never seen this." He pulled out his phone. "Mind if I take a picture? Nobody will believe it otherwise." And then he snapped a few before Callen had a chance to respond. After he took his pictures, the doctor checked the dressing for Callen's bullet wound, asked if he'd been given TIG, and then conducted a few standard tests.

While Callen was getting checked out, Anna and Sam took the short amount of time to visit the restrooms and grab something to eat. When they came back to the plane, Sam brought Callen a few energy bars and some fruit salad. He motioned Callen to lean forward, and when he did, Sam raised the back of the stretcher and secured it so that Callen was resting at an angle.

Callen looked up at him, "Thanks, but where's my coffee?"

Anna stepped out from behind Sam with a large cup, "Right here."

The doctor looked at Sam, "He's good to go. I've alerted the Naval Medical Center San Diego. They'll be ready for you."

Sam shook his hand, "Thanks, Doc."

"Glad I was here," he replied. "Fish hooks. I never would have believed it."

"Yea, he has a habit of getting into unusual situations."

The doctor moved to the door. "I just hope tetanus doesn't set in," he said and headed out.

"What did the doctor say?" Callen asked.

Sam turned to Callen, "He said he hopes we have a safe flight."

Callen raised his eyebrow, "Okay." Anna handed Callen his coffee and he took a sip, "Thanks." He settled back and took one of the energy bars out of the wrapper while Anna and Sam took their seats near him along one of the interior walls. Most of the aircraft's interior was empty with the exception of a few crates of equipment to be repaired and a dozen Marines rotating out who sat along the interior wall across from the NCIS agents. Sam nodded a welcome as the Marines entered. Most of them checked out Callen discreetly as they passed while Callen, who had finished one energy bar, now turned his attention to the fruit.

XXXXXXXXXX

They arrived at Miramar that afternoon and Callen was transported directly to the Naval Medical Center, accompanied by Anna and Sam. Once he arrived at the medical center, Callen was sent directly into surgery to get the fish hooks removed, and Anna and Sam wandered over to the waiting area where they found Hetty, seated and reading a book. She looked up when they entered and put her book away.

"How is he?" she asked quietly.

"He'll survive," Sam answered and then continued with a sly grin, "but I don't think he'll want to go fishing with me for awhile."

Hetty cocked her head, a puzzled expression on her face, and Anna explained about the fish hooks. Hetty nodded and looked at Sam. "Really, Mr. Hanna," Hetty said in a voice that carried a subtle edge, "making light of your partner's injuries is beneath you."

Sam looked at Hetty with mock indignation. "I would never do that, Hetty. I honestly don't think he'll want to go fishing for awhile." He turned serious, "I'm just glad he'll be okay, Hetty."

"As am I, Mr. Hanna."

"I'm going to take a walk outside. Call me when you hear something."

"Of course," Hetty replied and Sam walked down the corridor and eventually into the California sun. Hetty turned abruptly to Anna, "And how are you doing, my dear?"

"I'd be doing better, Hetty, if I knew I wasn't going to be going back to prison in the next 24 hours."

"Well, let me assure you, Ms. Kolcheck, you will not be going anywhere you do not wish to go in the next 24 hours or indeed, anytime after that."

Anna smiled and hugged Hetty spontaneously and then pulled back, somewhat embarrassed by her emotional response, but Hetty showed no sign that Anna's impromptu display of affection made her uncomfortable. Although Hetty didn't solicit displays of affection from her agents, like everyone else, she enjoyed a heartfelt hug now and again.

"How?" Anna asked.

Hetty looked at the book on her lap and the tiniest hint of a smile appeared as she met Anna's gaze, "My dear, I have been in this business a very long time, and one doesn't survive without learning a few secrets that should never see the light of day."

"You didn't."

"I did, and they knew I was absolutely serious." Hetty looked at Anna intently, "You killed an unarmed man, and that was a mistake. But it was not a mistake that should have cost you your freedom." Hetty reached out and took one of Anna's hands. "We all know who Sokolov was. He was an international criminal, a man who laundered millions of dollars for criminal organizations, he was involved in illegal arms dealing, and he had sanctioned the murder of at least two people on U.S. soil, in addition to kidnapping your father. In other words, the world is a better place without him."

Anna smiled and gently squeezed Hetty's hands. "Thank you, Hetty."

"You're welcome, but I didn't do it just for you. I also had a selfish motive," she said with a slight smile.

"I'm sure he's very glad to be back," Anna said with an easy laugh. "Cuba didn't really agree with him."

At that moment, the doctor entered and walked over to Hetty and Anna. "Miss Lange?" Both Hetty and Anna stood up and turned to him. The doctor smiled, "He's out of surgery and everything went smoothly. It was the first time I've ever removed fish hooks from a person instead of a fish." He then turned more serious, "The only worry is tetanus. There's no test we can administer, but he was given TIG to combat early stages if any of the bacteria was present, so I'm hopeful that there will be no symptoms; however, if any symptoms do appear, he needs to go to the hospital immediately."

"And how soon may symptoms appear, if they do?" Hetty asked.

"They can appear anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. I'll be giving Agent Callen a list of symptoms . . ."

Hetty interrupted, "I'll need a list, as well."

The doctor nodded, "So, he's that kind of patient, is he?"

"You have no idea."

"Well, I will definitely provide you with a copy of the symptoms, Miss Lange. If any of these symptoms appear, he needs to go to a hospital immediately, but I really don't expect them to."

"I hope not,"

The doctor smiled and continued, "He's being moved to Room 231. He'll be groggy for about an hour, but after that he should be fairly lucid."

"Thank you, doctor," Hetty said and put her hand out. The doctor shook it and then turned to Anna.

"Yes, thank you, doctor," Anna said as she shook his hand.

"By the way," he said to her, "I understand your dressing was top notch." She smiled and he turned and walked back the way he'd come to take care of other patients.

Hetty turned to Anna, "I think you should get a room for the night, don't you?"


End file.
